


Just Stay There {Drarry}

by Pommerose25161



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Casette Players, Fluff, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Good Severus Snape, Gryffindor Bashing, Hogwarts, Hospital Wing, M/M, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Sassy Draco Malfoy, Sassy Severus Snape, Slow Burn, Sly Bastards All Around, Slytherins, Starvation, but not really, dursleys are dicks, slightly feminine Harry Potter, slightly feminine everyone really, this whole cast is just a bucket of sass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:53:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pommerose25161/pseuds/Pommerose25161
Summary: "The thought of Snape owning a fridge disturbed him more than he thought it would."----Harry Potter, boy who lived, soon-to-be savior of the wizarding world, was currently laying on his back starving. He was following his orders to the t. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how hungry he is. He will stay with the Dursleys. It didn't matter how he felt anyway. He had no plans of leaving.Severus Snape had other ideas.Assigned to guard wonder boy for a week. When he found no signs of the Gryffindor actually living, he decided to investigate. When he 'kidnapped' Potter, he didn't expect to be the one stuck with the boy.---Father figure Severus SnapeEventual/slow burn DrarryLucius Malfoy is a prick who's actually really sweet and more like Arthur Weasley than he would like to admit.Harry discovers fishnet stockings and he is in love.Draco discovers muggle musicI do not own Harry Potter
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Poppy Pomfrey & Severus Snape
Comments: 41
Kudos: 350





	1. Chapter one

Harry lay on his back, his hardwood floor was no different from his bed. The only difference was that his bed was slightly above the ground. His ceiling's paint was chipping. The eggshell white slowly flaking and drifting down. It was the most entertainment that Harry had had in awhile. Other than talking to Hedwig, who was a terrible conversationalist, there was nothing to do.

The Dursley's had taken up a new tactic to torture him. It wasn’t physical or anything, simply neglect. 

Meals once a day, always the same thing, always delivered through the catflap. He was really getting sick of eating three saltines, two cheese sticks, and half an apple. Not once had there been any change to this meager diet. Well maybe except the type of apple. Today he had received half a crab apple. He didn't even know if crab apples were actually considered apples. It was barely the size of a large cherry, and was so bitter that he actually had to suppress his gag reflex.

One bathroom break a day. Which really wasn't a problem. He had so little water to drink, that he was almost surprised that he could piss at all.

Instead of bars on the windows, like last summer, there was no window. Some time during the school year someone had put plaster over the already dirty glass. He didn't really mind that. Hedwig had a different opinion. Aunt Petunia, the last time she had come up to escort Harry to the bathroom, Hedwig had shit on her head. Harry had been so out of it at that time he couldn't even laugh.

Now though, he found the thought slightly amusing. He cracked a half-assed smile at the ceiling, his lips hurt from the lack of water. But just as quickly the smile dropped, it was a waste of energy to smile.

Harry couldn't bear to look down at torso. His natural pigmentation of dark caramel was now reduced to almost the same shade as his dirty sheets. The concept of sunlight had become sort of a joke to him. A sad little joke that not even he thought was funny. It was more cruel than a joke. But it was a joke. One that he told himself to make himself laugh or chuckle. No one else was there to do it. 

When his singular light bulb had broken one month into his stay, it hadn't been his fault. He had been well aware that it was almost out of whatever made light bulbs work. He had only turned it on when Hedwig started screeching, and Petunia shouted up at him to shut 'that goddamned monstrosity up'. When it had broken the only light came from the open cat flap installed in his door. It was enough to live with. The only reason that the cat flap was even kept open was that sometimes Hedwig absolutely refused to be caged any longer. And had taken up a daily rampage through the Dursley’s quaint home. Nothing he could do to stop it, if the Dursley’s wanted him to do something about it they were going to have to physically drag him. Seriously, he wasn’t sure he could stand. The last time he had tried was when Petunia had marched him to the bathroom and back. And even that was more of a crawl than a march. 

Apparently the people supposed to be ‘guarding’ him, didn’t see any problem that their savior could barely stand. Yes, he knew about them. 

The sounds of the house had been practically imprinted into his brain. Any sounds that did not belong were like blaring car horns. So, when he first heard the muffled sounds of apparition, it didn’t take him long to come to a conclusion. A conclusion which infuriated him and humbled him. Obviously no one actually cared to interfere with the proceedings within the household. But the small fact that he was not completely alone brought a little solace. 

Maybe, just maybe, they’d notice how he hadn’t stepped foot outside the house once. Exactly like he had been told to do. Maybe they’d reward him with a visit, maybe a change in his daily feeding. Maybe he’d get the whole apple. Maybe they’d reward him with all the letters from his friends that were surely piling up outside his window. Maybe they’d have enough heart to install a sink in his room. What a relief that would be!

Harry’s damp mood lightened at the thought of the Aurors surely hard at work keeping him safe from the horrors of Voldemort. Because surely if Voldemort had him in his grasp things would be so much worse. So much worse. 

Or maybe they would kill him on sight. He had been hiding so well, that maybe they’d get so frustrated that they’d no longer care if he were alive or not. Of course if he stayed put, then the death eaters would never be able to find him. Never be able to kill him on sight. Never be able to destroy his fragile life. Never be able to endanger the Dursley’s and bring him into another trap. He wouldn’t be so foolish as last year. He would do exactly as told. He would stay put. 

That way no one would die on his behalf. Even if Cedric really didn’t die on his behalf. He was just there with him. Another reason why he should stay put. If he never got any contact with anyone then they wouldn’t be put in peril. So really it was a good thing that he stayed here. Nothing to gain or lose if he stayed here _. Just stay there.  _

Dumbledore’s words echoed in his head again. Like they had for the past two months. The potency still hadn’t diminished, if anything the words were more forceful. All he had to do was stay here. That was it. That was what he needed to do to protect his friends. He needed to stay here. 

_ Just stay there.  _

He would do his part, even if it meant his own torture. 

Was it even really torture? He was given food, he had a roof over his head, he was given water, he was given bathroom breaks, and that was what one really only needed. He was given the necessities. It didn’t need to be pretty, it didn’t need to be likeable. 

He had his task and what he needed to survive. What could one complain about when they were helping? 

**~**

There was something wrong going on downstairs. Well not wrong as in bad, wrong as in unusual. Wrong as in there was something that hadn’t happened before in the house. A few seconds ago the doorbell had rang. Dudley’s friends don’t ring the doorbell, they just barge in. Petunia’s friends don’t ring the doorbell, they knock. Vernon never had friends over, instead he went to the pub at exactly three thirty in the afternoon every day to see them. So already something was off. 

He heard Petunia rush to answer the door, it sounded like she hadn’t been prepared for the visit. The shower hadn’t run that morning, so that meant she hadn’t washed. She always washed the day when visitors came over. Plus she had been in the middle of baking something, judging by the sound of the whirring stand mixer. She knew better than to start baking before guests come over. 

The door’s one squeaky hinge, let him know that Petunia had opened the door. There was nothing for a few seconds. Either it had been his imagination or they were talking quietly. He heard the door slam shut, with more force than he would’ve expected. He heard two steps of footsteps. One dreadfully familiar, and one new.

Harry took it upon himself to memorize people’s footsteps. This person, whoever they were, hadn’t been in this house before. Petunia said something, she sounded annoyed. Someone answered her. He heard someone get shoved into a door frame and a feminine shout, so it must've been Petunia. The new set of footsteps heading towards the stairs. Harry strained his ears. And with more effort than it should take, turned his head to see outside the catflap. 

Two shiny black men’s dress shoes walked past. The starting of pale ankles and black trousers walked past. It wasn’t enough information to say whether this person was female, male, or something in between. The shoes stormed past his room, and seemed to stop in the hallway. 

“Potter!” Someone called. Harry froze, he knew that voice. That cold leering voice. The voice of Severus Snape. 

“How dare you!” Petunia shouted angrily from the stairs, as she stormed up after him. “Get out Severus, you haven’t been welcome in an Evans household since Lily!” She screeched, he imagined Snape rolling his eyes. 

“But this isn’t an Evans household, is it Petunia? Hasn’t been since you married that pig of a man. What was his name? Verom?” Snape said back, his voice was weird though. It sounded more like he was arguing with a pesky sibling. And since when did his potions master know his Aunt by name? How does his Aunt know him by name either?! This was so weird. 

Despite knowing better Harry continued to listen in. This was the most interesting thing to happen to him since the summer started. 

Petunia made a weird squawking sound, and stamped her foot. “He isn’t even here Severus! Hasn’t been since this morning, you’re wasting both our time!” 

“Ah that’s where you're wrong.” Snape said coldly, his voice returning to the familiar voice he lectured with. 

“Excuse me?! I think I know where I sent my nephew this morning.” Petunia seethed. 

“Is that so? Because I frankly haven’t seen him once this entire week.” 

“You’ve been stalking us!” Petunia accused, clearly shocked. 

“I wouldn’t call it stalking, duty-bound observing is more accurate.” 

“There is no difference Severus!”

“Are you sure about that? Stalkers wouldn’t have a permit to go into a muggle household to discuss wizards.” 

Hold on. Snape is here. Snape had been the one watching the house this week. Snape is the one here to check up on him? What the fuck. He doesn’t even care about him! Why is here instead of Sirius or Remus?! They’re the Gryffindors! Aren’t they supposed to be the most loyal! 

“And according to my sources he’s still in the house.” Snape continued his voice dark as  eigengrau. 

“And how would you know that?” Petunia sniffed. 

“Magic dear, do keep up.” Snape said dryly. Harry froze in shock, Snape had used magic in the Dursleys house? Was that even legal? The last time Harry had even uttered that word was to excuse himself when his lightbulb had finally died on him. Uncle Vernon had not been pleased. 

Petunia stuttered, apparently too angry to use words. He hoped Snape’s actions wouldn’t cost him his feeding tomorrow. Even if the half an apple was only a half of a crab apple. He would take that over nothing! 

“Potter?” Snape called again, his footsteps, seemed to echo, as they drew near Dudley’s room. The brute had left to hang out with his friends around noon. Which was a good thing too. Sometimes Dudley liked to tamper with Harry’s food portion. He heard the door open and Petunia still stuttering indignantly. “Not in here. Let me guess, you whale of a son’s room? Can he even fit through the door?” 

Harry had to hold back a laugh,  _ a laugh! _ It had been much too long since he had to hold back from laughing. His lips hurt and his mouth tasted like mud, but Harry grinned. He was still on the floor, his head was precariously aimed at the catflap. For the first time in forever Harry felt like moving to a sitting position. He slowly sat up, his back cracking with protest. If he was sweaty before, then he couldn’t describe this. It was like water droplets just emerged from his skin and decided to chill there.

Almost like sweat jello. 

He wasn’t focusing on that though, he was focusing on the catflap. 

He heard Snape move towards Petunia’s room. “Potter?” He called again, Harry opened his mouth to respond. He tried to force out words. What came out instead, was more like a gargled groan. Had it really been so long that he couldn’t even say words anymore? He was about to try again when Snape’s footsteps rushed over to his room. His shiny shoes displayed in the cat flap’s hole. “Potter? Are you in there?” 

The doorknob shook, and Harry remembered the numerous locks. “Don’t be daft Severus, that’s only the storage.” 

“What storage room on earth would need this many locks to keep safe?” Snape grunted, jostling the doorknob harder. “And a catflap? Honestly Petunia, and you thought you’d get into Ravenclaw.” Snape muttered angrily. 

“I did not want to go to that Hell of a school!” Petunia protested, her squeaky voice becoming even higher pitched. 

“Ah yes, I remember you wanted to go to  Beauxbâtons. Said the blue would go nicely with your hair.” Snape said, stepping back. “What was it with you and blue anyway? It makes your complexion look sickly.” 

“It does not!” Petunia protested. To be quite honest Harry hadn’t really thought about whether blue worked well with his aunt’s complexion before. And Snape really wasn’t the greatest at fashion himself. When was the last time he washed his hair anyway? 1980? 

Snape muttered a spell, and simultaneously all the locks on the door clicked open. Harry held his breath as the door slowly creaked open. Out of reflex, he instantly jerked to a more alert position. The light was blinding, it took a few seconds before Harry realised that it was sunlight. 

He looked different. That was the first thing Harry reckoned when his eyes adjusted enough to gage what Snape looked like. 

His hair was long as ever, but it wasn’t hanging freely in greasy sheets. Instead it was  _ clean  _ and pulled back into a small ponytail at his nape. He wore muggle clothes. Dark green button up shirt, black trousers, and a soft grey flat cap. He even wore, what looked like, a modern wrist watch. It was on the wrong wrist, but it was still there. All in all he suddenly felt very underdressed, which was ridiculous. 

Harry didn’t even bother reaching for one of his shirts. He relished the slight cool breeze that wafted into the room. The apparently impeccable fashion sense of his professor be damned. It was the first time he felt a cold breeze in months, and he wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste. 

Snape wasn’t looking at him he realized, he was staring at Petunia. Who had gone very still and very pale. Harry then realized Snape was saying something, something probably important. He halfheartedly strained his ears, but it was no use. When had Snape put up a Muffliato? He looked angry now, Harry wasn’t sure why. This was his task after all. 

_ Just stay there _ . 

It didn’t matter what the Dursley’s did to him here. As long as he was here. He could protect people by staying here. Besides, why should the grease ball care? Harry slowly backed away from the door, a movement the arguing adults noticed immediately. He froze on the spot when he realized he’d been caught. Caught for what he wasn’t exactly sure. He just knew that he was.

Snape waved his wand, and the Muffilato fell. 

“Harry,” he said slowly, like he was trying not to scare an animal. Snape searched for something to say, Petunia glared angrily at his back. If that glare had been aimed at him, he’d have shriveled back into the corner of his room. “Do you know what day it is?” he asked. 

The question surprised him, the day of the week didn’t matter. It only mattered that another day had passed where Voldemort hadn’t found him. He opened his mouth and only a quiet croak left. 

“When’s the last time you left this room?” His tone was low and dangerous. Harry didn’t know if it was aimed at him or Petunia. He shakily shook his head no. He’d stayed in the house like he had been asked. He had listened to his aunt and uncle like they had asked. He had stayed there. Snape shouldn’t be mad. Snape shouldn’t be here, looking all weird and knowing who his aunt is. Sirius or Remus should be here. Greeting him with open arms, and telling him that they were proud of him for following his orders. 

This wasn’t right. Maybe this was a dream, he couldn’t remember having one for a while but this definitely seemed like one. 

“Last meal? Last drink of water?” Snape rattled off, slowly turning to Petunia who stopped her glaring immediately. Harry shook his head again, he was so confused. He had been good, he had listened, what was wrong? 

“Severus-” 

“Don’t.” Snape cut Petunia off. “I’m taking him back.” 

“You can’t just do that! You can’t just waltz in here, with all your freakishness and demand to take Po- Harry back with you!” Petunia screeched. 

“The only reason you’re still alive, Dursley _ ,  _ is because I respected your sister. Although if she could see what you’ve done to her son, then your head would be mounted on her wall.” Snape’s threat hung in the air. Harry attempted to speak again, but it came out as garbled gibberish once more. Snape turned around to him, and Harry flinched at the deadly look in the man’s eyes. 

He looked ready to kill. 

But why? He had done what he had been asked. He hadn’t complained! Not once! 

Snape’s face instantly took on a less volatile edge, and morphed into something an intoxicated person might describe as concerned. 

Harry tried to clear his throat. “Snape,” he croaked, wincing at his own voice, “why are you mad?” he asked, his chest heaving for air as he completed the sentence. He didn’t remember talking being this hard, or this painful. His lips crackled as he talked and were flaked with dislodged dead skin. 

“Why,” Snape repeated, “am I mad?” He had never seen his potions master look so furious. Not once. 

Harry nodded, his energy fully spent on talking. He didn’t attempt to talk again. With great effort, he turned his head away from the door. He let himself slip down the wall until he was lying on his back. The golden boy, now pale and starving, thought he heard both Petunia and Snape shouting at something. Was that something him or each other? He wasn’t sure. 

All he knew was that he was tired, and he fully deserved some reward. Since he didn’t have much to choose from, he chose sleep as his reward. With weighed down eyelids he let himself drift away from his physical being. And the savior of the wizarding world slept. 

Everything was too confusing being awake for.


	2. Chapter two

Harry Potter woke up to an all too familiar muttering of diagnosis spells being put on him. He didn’t bother opening his eyes. Madam Pomfrey would tell he was awakened by his increase in his heart speed. He was right, and her ‘tsk’ above him signalled that she had indeed figured out he was awake. “Mr Potter do open your eyes, I need to take a retinal scan.” Madam Pomfrey said drowsily, like she had just woken up. 

Harry knew better than to disobey her, and with great reluctance pried his eyelids open. Which wasn’t easy, they felt like they had been glued together. It was dark in the Hospital Wing, and the moonlight filtered in through the giant windows. Confirming his theory that the nurse had just woken up. Which led him to the question: what in the almighty fuck was he doing here? 

With a jolt, Harry realised he was no longer at the Dursleys residence. Which meant that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. As Madam Pomfrey turned her back on him, Harry put into action his half baked escape plan. It relied mostly on gravity and the slight down tilt of the floor. With a heave Harry attempted to roll off the bed and onto the floor. His plan failed before he was even facing the floor, as Madam Pomfrey caught his arm. “Really Mr Potter? I would have expected you to try something more grand as an escape.” 

“Why am I here?” Harry tried to demand, as Madam Pomfrey set him right on the bed; but it sounded more like a squeak than anything else. She took out her wand once more, ignoring him. She muttered a weak version of Lumos and aimed her wand at his eye. Probably to take that retinal scan. He sulked and held still, because he knew it would do no good to delay her scans. 

“I’m not supposed to be here.” Harry tried, when she had finished with the retinal scan. Only to have Pomfrey raise a grey blond eyebrow at him.

“And why not Mr Potter?” 

“I’m supposed to be with my aunt and uncle.” Harry persisted, ignoring the faint lavender light originating from Pomfrey’s wand as she scanned his entire face. 

“Ah yes, the people who starved and locked you in your room.” Madam Pomfrey said, a rare hint of something other than annoyance or concern in her voice. It sounded more like anger, again Harry couldn’t figure out why. Snape had been mad, now Pomfrey was mad too. He didn’t like making people mad at him when all he had done was follow directions! He had stayed there without complaint, exactly like Dumbledore had asked him to! 

“Yes,” his voice cracked, and he winced at the sound. Madam Pomfrey tsked again, and took a tall glass of water off the bedside table. She handed it to him, Harry knew it was pointless to try and wave off her care. So he tried to prop himself up on his elbow to drink the water correctly. He had ended up needing Madam Pomfrey’s help to sit up. “They didn’t starve me.” Harry said once he had drank all the water. 

Madam Pomfrey glanced over at him, she was looking at the results of her scans. Her wand was emitting what was probably a screen like report of his state, one that he could not see. “Is that so? What did you eat then?” 

Harry paused for a second, and considered whether he should tell her the truth of his painfully meager diet. “Enough,” he finally settled on. It wasn’t exactly a lie but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. 

“I’m afraid not, your body was so low on dehydration and nutrients, I’m surprised you woke up so fast.” 

“It was too, enough.” Harry argued. 

“Mhm, what then did you eat for every meal? Or better yet, how many meals were you allowed to eat?” Madam Pomfrey asked, her voice holding that twinge of anger again. She stuffed her wand into her apron. Apparently done accessing his current state of body. 

“Umm, crackers, cheese, and fruit.” Harry answered, holding back the exact details. 

“That still isn’t enough for a growing person like yourself Mr Potter.” that seemed like the end of the conversation, as Pomfrey turned on her heel. She walked to her infamous potions cabinet. And unlocked the heavily warded doors. 

“Did Snape bring me here?” Harry shouted over to the nurse. 

She didn’t bother to look back at the pale boy as she answered, “Yes, it’s been quite a long time since I’ve seen him in such a state.” 

“Angry?” Harry asked tentatively. 

Pomfrey paused in her searching and turned back to him. She had a strange look in her eyes which was an odd combination of pity and that look she always got when she saw a new way the chosen one had managed to mess up his body. It was the same look she had given him when he reported that Gilderoy Lockhart had vanished all the bones in his arms. “Yes dear, so unbelievably angry.” without another word she turned back to the cabinet. 

With nothing else to do, Harry turned his head, still heavy on his neck, and looked up at the ceiling. He absentmindedly counted the rafters, as Madam Pomfrey continued to rifle through her entire stock of health potions. He wasn’t supposed to be here, here he couldn’t help protect people. Here he wasn’t able to follow the one set of orders he was given. Here he put his friends in danger. His very presence was putting Madam Pomfrey in danger. Of course the still mildly rational part of his brain suggested that it was impossible anyone could harm Madam Pomfrey in Hogwarts. She worked, slept and lived here. Yet Hogwarts wasn’t as secure as he’d once thought it to be. 

Death Eaters were still able to tamper with the Triwizard tournaments last year, not to mention Peter Pettigrew and Rita Skeeter. Who could break in, at any time in their Animagus forms. And no one would be the wiser. He was putting people in danger by being here, he needed to go back there. As much as he appreciated Madam Promfrey’s care, and the glass of water she had given him, she couldn’t guarantee either of their safeties. 

The doors opened to the Hospital Wing, and a very pissed off Severus Snape entered. He was still wearing the shockingly muggle outfit from earlier. Except the flat cap was clutched in a ball in his hand. He looked close to chucking it across the room. 

“Poppy,” he said, making the nurse turn towards him, “I’m going to kill him!” Snape yelled angrily, he marched right down the alley between cots next to Pomfrey. She didn’t seem surprised at his behavior nor his outfit. 

“I don’t condone to violence Severus, but on this point I might agree with you.” Promfery replied, her voice simultaneously seething and reassuring at the same time. “Has Minerva gotten word of this yet?” 

“My murder plans or Potter’s state of health?” Snape asked sarcastically. Promfery gave him a look, and he clenched his jaw. “No, the old coot he said he wanted to keep this between us.” he spat out the word like it was vile. 

Promfrey shook her head disappointed. “Well then, are you going to tell her anyway?” 

Snape looked up at her, “of course I am.” he said angrily as he continued pacing. Both of them ignoring Harry, Pomfrey because she was, Snape because Harry suspected he didn’t even know he was awake. 

“As a Ravenclaw, I applaud the spreading of potentially toxic knowledge. As the nurse, I say keep the people who know to a minimum. Patient privacy is a main priority.” Madam Pomfrey advised. She appeared to have found the potion she had been looking for. She turned back towards Harry, who froze as he realized he had been caught listening in. But if the two had wanted to talk in private they wouldn’t have practically shouted. 

“Minerva would be able to help.” Snape insisted, watching as Madam Pomfrey walked past him and towards Harry. Who locked eyes begrudgingly with a very cranky Snape. The second he did, Snape’s face morphed into a weirdly concerned and frustrated look. It was disconcerting really.   
“And who says you can’t? Your pride?” Pomfrey asked sternly, helping Harry sit up in bed so he could swallow the snot green potion. It didn’t look appetizing, but if it gave him some of his strength back he just might make the sacrifice of his taste buds. 

“Of course not! I just-” he cut himself off, and shook his head. Looking angrily in the other direction, he fiddled with his dress shirt sleeves. Pomfrey rolled her eyes, and gave Harry a ‘can you believe this guy’ look. She shoved the potion into his hand, and he looked down at it uneasily. 

“Do I have to?” his throat seemed to have absorbed any moisture left from the water, and was now a weird combination of textures. Somewhere between muddy and a tube of saw dust. Making his voice groggy and a little painful to listen to. 

“Yes Mr Potter, if you’re planning on getting up from this cot any time soon.” Madam Promfery said. Harry gulped loudly, partly because he was nervous, and partly because his mouth tasted like dung. And the potion didn’t like it would improve the flavour any. With slight tremors in his hand Harry lifted the vile to his lips, and downed the disgusting concoction. He gagged, and let the vile drop to his lap. 

Madam Pomfrey quickly grabbed the vile so it didn’t roll off the cot. “What even was that?” he managed to suppress another gag. Pomfrey wordlessly handed him another glass of water, and Harry happily drank it to the last drop. 

“Energy and nourishment supplement, used when a victim of depression is causing themselves to starve and shuts themselves off from society. The only difference in your case Potter, is that you didn’t starve willingly.” Snape answered, his voice icy with both disappointment and fury. 

“I didn’t starve.” Harry repeated his earlier words weakly, with a lot less conviction. “I had enough food to live.” 

Snape eyed him curiously, and his frown hardened. “Did you? What sort of meals were you given?” 

Harry gulped again, and looked away from his potions master. “Um, little ones?” was his pathetic answer. 

“But what exactly did you eat everyday?” Snape persisted, chilling rage steeping beneath poorly hidden anger. 

The boy who lived sighed heavily, he really shouldn't be here. “Three saltines, two cheese sticks, and a half an apple.” Harry answered truthfully. 

For a while Snape didn’t comment, Harry could practically sense the man looking down on him with distaste. He risked it and glanced up at his Professor. What he saw surprised him, the weird look was back in full force. Concern, mixed with blazing anger and frustration. “I see, how many times a day were you served?”   
Harry figured since he had already revealed that the full truth couldn’t hurt. “Once,” he muttered. For the first time not feeling the sense of bitter pride at his ability to go so long on so little food. Instead it kind of felt wrong, like it wasn’t his duty to take this burden for the sake of his friends. The look in Snape’s eyes only helped enforce the feeling, Harry didn’t like it. 

“Well then,” Madam Pomfrey interrupted, “that is definitely not enough food. So little in fact that it would be solid evidence to take you away permanently from that place.” she sounded rather victorious. 

“What? No!” Harry shouted before he could think rationally. 

Madam Pomfrey looked at him with shock, her hands twitching. Probably to see if she should grab her wand to make sure he wasn’t imperiused or something. She gulped, and closed her eyes, calming down. “And why in heaven’s name would you want to be returned?” 

“Because I need to stay there! That’s what I’ve been trying to do!” Harry exclaimed. He was tired, hungry, and by this point quite hysterical. “I-I need to be there to protect them!” 

“Protect who exactly Potter?” Snape asked, his voice quiet but still held a note of danger. “Because I do hope you don’t mean those slobs who retracted your full potential.” 

Harry shifted uncomfortably, whatever the potion was it was starting to help. He didn’t need any help staying upright anymore. “Well, no um, not exactly them, but if they can be helped along the way then…” he shrugged. “But that’s not who I need to protect,” he paused for a second then added, “sir.” 

“Who do you then?” Snape asked, his flat cap still clenched tight in his hand. Harry never thought he’d feel sorry for a hat. 

“Hermione, Ron, Sirius, Remus and all the others.” Harry said immediately, they were his main priority. They were the ones he needed to protect at all costs.   
Then something happened that Harry never felt was possible, Snape’s face softened slightly. It was weird to see the man look sympathetic, an emotion that, if ever seen, was directed at the upper year Slytherins. Usually it was reserved for the most odd times, and in Harry’s opinion, unfair times. Like when an upper year Slytherin happened to write about the wrong thing in an essay. Or if Malfoy for example, ever came down with a disease of some sort. Then Snape would often send their particular friend group sympathetic glances. It was weird, and Harry wasn’t sure if he felt okay with it directed at him. 

“They’re more important than you are?” Snape finally asked after a period of, for Harry, uncomfortable silence. Snape made use of the time to walk towards the end of Harry bed. He stopped walking before the end rail. 

“They were busy!” Harry finally defended. 

“With homework? I’m sure Granger had finished all of hers within the first week. Weasley most likely would take up any excuse not to do his work.” The challenge was evident in Snape’s voice; find a reason they weren’t there for him. 

“With something else then!” 

“With what then? Something more important than helping you apparently, must’ve been something really important then. Unless they put you on a shelf and pretended that you didn’t exist for a summer. They must’ve noticed something if all their owls were sent back.” Snape said, his voice gaining a twinge of what sounded like pity. 

“They didn’t want to pry! They know the Dursleys hate magic.” 

“Do they? Well that’s an even better reason to come and give you a visit.” Snape shot back, his arms crossing over his chest. “After their third or fourth owl was sent back it shouldn’t be hard to figure out something is wrong. Unless Granger is not as cunning as I presumed.” 

“She is too cunning!” Harry defended, but they both knew his resolve was cracking slightly. “She didn’t want to get me in trouble is all.” 

“Well then I ought to give her a consideration badge shouldn’t I?” he said sarcastically. Rolling his eyes so far Harry thought he might be able to see brain. “Award for considering golden boy Harry Potter’s potentially toxic living conditions and not giving a damn!” 

Pomfrey gasped loudly, “Severus! Watch your tongue! I know you’re upset, and frankly I’d like to whoop Albus’s butt myself, but do not take it out on my patient!” Pomfrey scolded, she looked tempted to cover Harry’s ears. Harry was half tempted to let her at this point.

Snape gritted his teeth, and closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he was done calming down, he let out a long heavy breath. “What I’m trying to make clear Potter is that there is absolutely no excuse for ignoring your situation nor letting this continue on for so long. Nevermind all that-” he paused and looked to Pomfrey, “am I allowed to swear?”

“No.” 

“Alright then; nevermind all that malarkey about protecting people by allowing yourself to be starved in the process. Didn’t they tell you all your friends were protected by heavy layers of complex magic?” 

Harry gulped loudly, he didn’t like this question. Dumbledore’s words rang through his head again. “Just stay there, I’d advise you not to leave the house either. It could potentially put your friends in danger. I hate to inform you of this Harry, but Voldemort is now fully alive and will be hunting for you every second he is awake. Should you leave, then you are not only in danger, but your friends will be as well.” then the old man was tugged away by a long nosed auror. Harry had wanted to ask him all sorts of things, he couldn’t remember the questions now, but they were starting to come back to him. 

Where will my friends be going? 

Where will Sirius and Remus go? 

Why is everyone rushing? Isn’t the danger gone already? 

Do I have to go back to the Dursleys? 

He couldn’t think of any more but he was sure they were there. He had so many questions, when did he forget that? With a shuddered breath, Harry shook his head slowly. “No, Dumbledore was the last wizard who told me a part of what was happening.” he said slowly, realizing that once he was escorted back on to the Hogwarts express, that no one had really spoken to him. Which kind of made sense at the time, he came back from the portkey, half dead, dragging the corpse of Cedric Diggory behind him, and raving loudly that Voldemort had come back from the dead. He hadn’t questioned it at the time, but now he wished that he had. 

Snape’s eyes flared with fury, “They didn’t tell you anything?” his voice was low and cold, like frail ice. 

“No, not much, Dumbledore just said that I should stay there.” 

“Or else?” Snape asked, sensing there was a bigger burden bestowed on him than only the words of an old wizard. Which he was right of course. 

“Um, or else I was putting all my friends, family, basically everyone I am around, and myself, in danger?” or at least that’s how he interpreted it. 

The potions master breathed deeply through his nose, and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was obvious he was trying to calm himself down. “And Dumbledore told you all of this?” the fuming professor asked quietly. 

“Sort of?” Harry said, wincing when he heard his voice crack. 

“Sort of?” repeated Snape, his face was beginning to flush, like it had back at the Dursleys’. Harry watched as Snape clutched his flat cap even harder, his other hand turning into a fist. He desperately hoped that he wouldn’t get clobbered on top of finding out he almost starved to death. 

“Severus,” came Pomfrey’s calm voice, “why don’t you go calm down a bit? Hm? Maybe rant at some of the portraits upstairs? Or confront a particular wizard with half moon spectacles?” Pomfrey suggested, her voice tighter than usual. Snape let out a large sigh, and ran a hand through his hair. Snagging the black elastic that was holding his hair back and tugging it out. Causing his, for once, clean locks dangle free. He ran a hand through his hair a few times, combing it back so it didn’t get in his face. 

“Perhaps,” he finally said, “that’s a good idea.” 

“Good, now off you go, come back when you’ve got some news.” Pomfrey, made a shooing motion with her hands. Snape nodded sending the nurse a slightly angry and slightly weary look. He left quickly, and suddenly the hospital wing was much too quiet. 

Madam Pomfrey and Harry stayed awkwardly, until Harry finally spoke, “do you think he’s right?” 

“About what exactly?” Madam Pomfrey said, sighing at the end, and turning to fix the boy another glass of water. 

“About no one caring enough to come check up on me?” his voice cracked a little at the end, he knew it wasn’t puberty but he chalked it up as it.   
“Well he cared enough didn’t he?” Pomfrey said gently, handing Harry the same glass of water that had been miraculously filled to the brim. He took it silently, and nodded to her in thanks. 

He didn’t know how to respond to that, the nurse seemed to get that since she didn’t press for a response. “Do you think, if, if Sirius was watching the house he would have came up to check up on me too?” he finally questioned. Handing the glass back to her. 

“I don’t know, but I do know that you need some rest Mr Potter. So get some sleep while you can, do you need anything else?” 

“No, no I don’t think so. Thank you Madam Pomfrey.” he said quietly. Letting himself ease back down into the bland covers of the cot. 

“Any time, any time.” 

~~~  
“Albus you son of a bitch!” Severus roared from the top of the spiral staircase, he glared at the ancient wizard behind the elaborate desk. The old wizard sighed, and folded his hands on top of his desk. “You knew about this didn’t you?!” 

“You’ve already confronted me once Severus, what would one more time give you?” Albus said tiredly. The old man facade came much too easily for his liking.  
“What were you planning, telling a 14 year old boy that he has to stay in an abusive household or else all his friends die?!” the angry potions master demanded.   
Albus held back a groan, he was already guilty enough. “He told you that, did he?” Severus’s glare was enough to go by, that yes, Harry had told him of his previous words. “My words may have not been the wisest thing to say at the time. But you must understand that-” 

“Stop, no more excuses Albus. Your lies have done enough damage already, I will not allow it to fracture anything more.” Severus hissed, his eyes gleaming with a certain type of anger Albus hadn’t seen in a long long time. 

“What shall I do then? It wouldn’t be safe to keep him here. Molly already has too much on her plate. We all knew it was a bad idea putting her in charge of the Grimmauld place and the protections.” 

“Molly is the best person to be in charge of that field and has more than proven it.” Severus said coldly. “Stop making up your alibis, we will and can find a better place to put the bloody savior of all people. I bet my left foot, any wizarding family with half a mind would gladly take him in!” 

Albus raised an eyebrow at that. The fierceness and protectiveness in his voice was surprising, but there was another note to it. Almost like regret, but twisted and contorted into fury. Overall an unusual tone for the stony potions master to take on. Especially for Harry Potter of all people, then it hit him. “You wish to take him in?”   
The man froze in his fury, and looked at him incredulously. “Excuse me? No, no I do not want to take Harry James Potter in!” Severus said, offended that anyone would even suggest that. But the old wizard had a century's worth of practice at reading people, and if you live long enough you see the same intentions displayed in fascinating but the same ways. The way Severus was acting suggested that he very much wanted, begrudgingly, to take the boy in. 

“No one has better wards than you Severus, which wizards would be better?” 

“Black! The Grangers! Even the damn Malfoys!” he bellowed, he looked very close to throwing the flat clap clutched in his grip at him. Albus was tempted to put up a wandless dome to prevent any airborne arsenal from hitting him. Although, he figured that it would only enrage the man more. 

“Sirius, as much as I respect him, is trapped in his own house and wouldn’t be able to provide Harry with what he needs.” Severus scoffed loudly at that, but Albus ignored him. “Ms Granger has fragile protections, another body to protect would only increase the strain. And I have a small hunch that Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t appreciate having the Gryffindor golden boy dumped at his feet. Not to mention his son… would have an issue with it as well.” Albus explained, a small plan forming in his head.

It was tenuous and a bit risky but it might work. If Severus would only stop being so stubborn and see it as he did. 

“Have you forgotten a detail to this plan of yours?” Severus asked scowling. “I’ve got this thing called a dark mark. You know, the bane of my bloody existence! The boy wouldn’t trust me within an inch of his life, and I don’t bloody blame him!” 

“Ah, but here’s the thing Severus, the boy doesn’t know… much, about the types of spells death eaters actually use. Teach him what he needs to know to survive these next few years, I know it’s not ideal, but-.” 

“Hah.” Severus interrupted coldly, “not ideal? That’s a fucking understatement, not to mention Odin won’t stand the kid. And teach him how to defend himself against the dark arts? I thought that wasn’t my job? Potions master, remember?”

Albus admitted that he did have some good points, and that the man was still bitter about not acquiring the DADA position yet again. The candidates this year were yet again sparse, but Dolores seemed to have a greater chance at not being corruptible. Not to mention she’s with the ministry, the school needed a good review after last year's flop of a tournament. “I understand that you’re frustrated Severus. I also understand that you know that you’d be the best wizard to take him in. It’s only for a month or two, nothing too long.” 

Severus didn’t respond for a few minutes, he glared at the old man with the anger of someone betrayed. Finally he let that poor flat cap fall limp in his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine.” he gritted out. 

“Fine you’re going to do it?” 

“Fine I’ll ask him if he wants to. You’ve proven that you are the least qualified to make decisions for that boy.” he said, the steely tone made Albus wince discreetly. With one last glare, Severus marched back down the stairs. 

With a deep sigh Albus slumped down in his chair and squeezed his eyes shut. Praying to whatever god was listening, he knew many, that he hadn’t made the wrong suggestion yet again.


	3. Chapter three

Harry didn’t know how long he had slept, only that it had been forever since he had such a good experience sleeping. The last time he had proper clean sheets was the last time he was at Hogwarts. It also felt good not to be stifling hot and in sticky jeans 24/7. He half hoped they had saved them so he could personally burn them with an incendio charm. 

When he woke up, the sun had already risen fairly high. He took a moment to relishs in the fact that he could actually tell that the sun was anywhere. A cool glass of water and some solid gray pills waited for him on his bedside table. With a sigh he heaved himself up into a sitting position. 

As far as he was concerned pills weren’t usually solid grey and shiny. The small tablets of ibuprofen the Dursley’s sometimes gave him when he was younger were circular and dark pink. Well, at least it wasn’t the snot green potion again, speaking of which, he did feel more energized than normal. Normal as in not having the will or courage to get up from the floor and to do anything other than count your fingers over and over again. It was more entertaining than most people thought. He downed the pills dry in rapid succession, then chugged the water after them. He sighed as he looked around the now empty hospital wing. 

Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, and thankfully, neither was Snape. What was with him yesterday anyway? The man had no right to be mad, Harry had only followed his directions. And in his opinion they weren’t unreasonable expectations. It wasn’t his friends' fault that they hadn’t investiagated, and it wasn’t Remus’s or Sirius’s fault that they hadn’t checked up on him. Remus had other things to worry about, and Sirius couldn’t be expected to come out of hiding to come and guard him. His guards had protected him from the death eaters and the dementors from finding him. They had no reason to suspect something was wrong, and nothing was wrong for that matter. He could’ve handled it fine, Snape has no idea what he’s talking about. 

Or did he? 

That was the question. What if Hermione and Ron could’ve done something to help him and didn’t? What if Sirius was given the option to guard him and didn’t take it? What if the guards knew he was being neglected and starved and didn’t do anything about it? Did no one really think something suspicious was happening other than Snape? What if Dumbledore really did have another motive other than his safety in sending him to the Dursleys’? 

He couldn’t answer any of these questions without talking to people. The only people he’s talked to so far were Snape and Madam Pomfrey. And he really only trusted one of those people. She hadn’t really made her opinion clear on whether she agreed with Snape’s accusations that his friends had known something was off.

Madam Pomfrey entered through a side door, looking a lot more rested than she did last night. “Good morning Mr Potter, I hope you’re feeling better.” she eyed the bedside table, and when she saw no pills she nodded in approval. 

“I am, thank you, but um…” his stomach gurgled loudly. “I’m a little hungry, just a smidgen.” Harry said, flushing a little in embarrassment. 

She snorted quietly, and tapped the glass of water with her wand. Filling it with water again. “Of course you are, but you have to wait a few minutes. I’m sure the house elves are cooking up something marvelous for breaking fast.” 

Lo and behold a few minutes later, some house elves dressed in their uniforms of dishcloths and delivered a steaming breakfast. Hsi tray was loaded with sausage, eggs(cooked two different ways), toast, bacon, and some sauces on the side. Harry looked at the abundance of food doubtfully. He wasn’t sure he could eat all this on a regular day, much less trying to recover from starvation. Madam Pomfrey caught his doubtful look and sent him a little smile. 

“Eat as much as your stomach can handle, I’d prefer it if I made it through the day without cleaning up your vomit.” She said gently. Harry smiled sheepishly at her and began to dig into the delicious food. He held back a moan of appreciation the second the food touched his tongue. It had been so long since he ate anything of real substance and flavour. He ate giddily. 

It wasn’t long before Madam Pomfrey had to leave to get her own breakfast. The only reason the house elves delivered his meal and not hers, was because it wasn’t ‘proper’ for her to eat a meal directly with her patients. Which he kind of understood, nurse expectancies or something. 

About half way through his meal, Severus Snape entered the hospital wing. Harry didn’t try to hide his glare, as the man opened the door. He walked through the doors wearing yet again another muggle outfit. The tortured flat cap from yesterday was nowhere to be seen. His hair was up again, this time he wore a black button up, with dark grey slacks, and some type of dark brown shoe Harry couldn’t bother to remember the correct name of. Soafers maybe? 

Snape blew out a long breath, and regarded him meticulously. Harry felt uncomfortable under the older man’s semi-intense gaze and shifted uneasily. Finally Snape said, “you have a few options, Potter.” 

Harry furrowed his brows, and swallowed the bite of sausage he was chewing. “Options for what professor?” he asked, confused. 

“Options for where you can go after this.” Snape said, walking towards Harry’s bed, and stopping at the end rail. Harry bit a piece of toast, and chewed it thinking over the man’s words. 

“Why can’t I go to the burrow with Ron?” he questioned. At the end of last summer he stayed with them. Why couldn’t he do it again? 

“Molly is working on important things away from ‘the burrow’ as you call it, and Arthur already has too much to handle. With a hellish amount of kids, and add a rather strenuous job on top; he can’t take in another body to look after.” Snape said, like he didn’t just refer to the elder Weasleys using their first names. 

Harry stared at him for a few seconds, enough time to think up something to say. “I didn’t know that Mrs Weasley’s working away from home now.” is what he finally settled on. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know Potter, so shall I tell you your options or not?” 

He gulped and nodded, glad they were giving him a choice for once. “You can go back to that pit of a house-” 

“Yes!” Harry interrupted. “I choose that one!” 

“Let me finish Potter.” he snapped. Harry rolled his eyes but stayed silent anyway. “Or you can stay in- ugh I can’t believe I’m saying this.” he muttered that last part. “Or you can stay with me.” he finally said loudly. The look on his face suggested that he just ate something incredibly bitter, like a lemon. 

Harry blinked, once, twice, Snape didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. So this wasn’t an illusion. “Uh, what?” 

“I said you can stay with me you idiot boy!” he said angrier than he intended probably, because he flinched and calmed back down almost instantly. 

“Why though?” Harry asked, knowing that Snape would never suggest this unless he didn’t have to. “Isn’t there any other option?” 

The potions master actually seemed to consider this for a moment, flaring a little spark of hope in Harry. “The Malfoy’s could also house you I suppose.” Snape said, with a little twitch of an evil smirk on his lips. “Although I don’t think you’d get on well.” 

“You think?!” Harry exclaimed loudly. Causing Snape’s face to contort into something resembling amusement. Harry glared at him, but that didn’t cause the look to go away. If anything it increased. “Well it doesn’t matter anyway, I should go back to the Dursleys’ anyway.” 

“Should or want to Potter?” Snape asked gently. Which was an odd tone for his voice to take on. Harry realized, with slight horror, that he really didn’t mind it all that much. 

“Should, but-” 

“Why should you then?” the professor interrupted. “You can’t get anything done there, your task of staying far away from wizard kind did and will do you no good. Your friends nor you will be affected by you leaving that wretched house. All it will do is cause harm.” 

“And why do you care?” Harry demanded. 

Snape looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Well believe it or not I can’t wish any of my students harm with an undamaged conscience. If I need to, then I will help in ways I can.” 

“If you need to?” 

“This isn’t an offer I would give unless necessary Potter. I’d happily ship you off to live on a boat to the Bermuda Triangle if I could.” Snape definitely wanted to roll his eyes, Harry decided. 

“And why would I want to go with you if I didn’t need to?” Harry asked, feeling his resolve slipping yet again. 

“Why would you want to go back to that slum?” the professor challenged raising an eyebrow. 

Harry knew that repeating himself would do no good, Snape had already debunked most of his points with frustratingly clear logic. If he was going to be able to go back to the Dursleys’ than he’d need a better plan than ‘I need to protect my friends.’ Something Slytherin enough that Snape would admire or at least agree on the terms.   
The only problem was, Harry didn’t have that good of a plan. Only his Gryffindor wits and a stupid voice in the back of his that told him things he already knew to do. Like ‘don’t mess this up’ or ‘don’t be an idiot’. His favorite was ‘you know how to English, English properly young squire!’. None of those really helped him form this dastardly Slytherin plan, that was sure to dethrone Snape as king of debates. 

What he ended up saying was messed up, idiotic, and did not English properly. It was, “they have good apple.” 

Snape stared at him, and Harry tried to figure out what on earth was wrong with him. Oh well, might as well roll with it. “Yep, they have good apples.” Harry said confidently, nodding like this wasn’t the weirdest argument he has ever presented. 

“Potter, according to you, you didn’t even get to eat the whole apple.” 

Shit. There goes his one chance at confusing Snape. 

“They were still good though.” he mumbled, suddenly feeling very stupid. 

Snape regarded him oddly, then sighed in what seemed like defeat. “Potter, do you even have a valid reason other than not liking the situation?” 

Harry didn’t answer, and took a huge bite of toast. Looking down at his, now cold, breakfast like it was the most interesting thing in the universe. Snape sighed loudly again, and muttered something Harry couldn’t hear. Hopefully it wasn’t a spell or anything. “If you choose to go back to Petunia’s pockmark of a dwelling, I cannot stop you from doing so. But I’d advise you to put your reasoning over your instincts for once. It might…” Snape searched for a word, “be better than you assume.” 

“Well you sound confident,” Harry stated sarcastically, he couldn’t help himself. His greatest defense in this conversation had been ‘they have good apple’. He had earned a little sarcasm. 

“It might be better than I assume as well.” he replied. Harry could practically hear him think ‘although I doubt it’. “Do hurry up eating, you need to make your final decision known around noon time. In the meantime, you have a lot of homework to start.” 

With one more weary glance, Snape walked out of the hospital wing. Leaving Harry to stew in his thoughts. 

~~~~~  
He hadn’t been kidding about the homework. 

In due time after Harry had mostly finished his meal, a small group of well fed house elves carried in his school trunk. Setting it heavily at the end of the bed. It had been a long time since Harry had even touched his wand, and seeing his trunk made him slightly emotional. Much to Harry’s embarrassment and to Madam Pomfrey’s amusement. After shedding a few perfectly manly tears, Harry flipped open his trunk lid. Excited that he could move and walk freely about the hospital wing. Still no running of any sort, but it was a major improvement.

Once he had changed into a too small standard Hogwarts uniform, he started on his long overdue homework. Finding out that he had so much to do that he might actually have to apply himself to his work this summer. Or what was left of the summer. 

He didn’t exactly know how long it had been since the end of the school year. Madam Pomfrey had assured him that he had at least two months of summer left. Not sure if that was a good thing or not, Harry had thanked her anyway and dove into an essay for Care of Magical Creatures (review the five essential ways to groom a Gemini gargoyle). It had taken up most of his mental space, but sadly not all of it. 

It took him longer than it usually did because he kept getting distracted by the stupidest of things. Like wondering if Snape lived in a gingerbread house and lured innocent children in to harvest their organs for potions. He sure hoped not, he rather liked his organs and would like to keep them thank you very much. Or what if Snape lived in a completely muggle house and had a TV and everything. It wasn’t very likely, but he had shown up these past two days in normal muggle clothing. That regular muggle teachers would wear to school. It’d be interesting and just plain weird to know if his potions master knew how to dial a modern phone. 

Not that he was sure if was actually going to live at Severus Snape’s house. As the professor had said, it was only an option. Frankly the better option, but an option nonetheless. His other option was to go back to his abusers and live there. With no certainty if he was going to be treated better, if Harry had to guess he would be treated worse than he had already. Which would be quite the feat. 

Either way it was a lose lose situation. Who knows if Snape would treat him any better than the Durleys did? But something deep down in Harry’s gut told him that he wouldn’t. The most likely thing to happen was that they would ignore each other and go on with their lives separately. Harry’s biggest concern wasn’t how he was to be treated though, it was if he would be well hidden. Madam Pomfrey had slyly mentioned that Snape had some of the best hiding wards in the country. She had been quite beside herself when she found out Harry was considering actually going back to the Dursleys residence. So she did her best to try and convince him that going with Snape really would be the better option. 

Not that Harry needed more convincing. 

As noon time grew closer and closer he found himself legitimately thinking about taking up his potions master’s offer. If he couldn’t protect his friends any better in the Dursleys than with Snape, he may as well be informed of what’s happening in the wizarding world. If Snape had anything, he had information. 

Harry sighed and glared at the parchment, he wasn’t close to being done and he had given up pretending to do work. He set the most likely important essay aside, and sat up properly. He stretched his limbs and winced from the soreness. Maybe he could convince Madam Pomfrey to let him go out for a walk. As he was about to get up and go ask her, Snape opened the double doors to the hospital wing. Looking at him warily, with only a hint of distaste. It was better than normal, so Harry supposed it was an improvement. He was about to go live with the guy he might as well get used to it. 

Merlin, was he really going to do this? 

“I trust you’ve made an informed decision Potter?” Snape asked from the doorway. His tone suggested that he already knew what Harry had picked and was dreading it. 

“Sort of?” Harry phrased it more like a question, “Can I ask a few questions first?” 

“If you must.” Snape remarked. 

“Alright um, can I be hidden from Vol- you-know-who where you live?” he asked tentatively.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, then genuinely seemed to consider it. “It is safe for you there, yes.”

“Safer than the Dursleys?” 

The man’s eyes darkened, and his natural frown seemed to harden even. Harry didn’t need a verbal answer to know that Snape was offended. “I do hope you mean my wards and not my ability to feed you actual nourishment.” 

“I do.” Harry said hurriedly, noting the way Snape didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. “I don’t actually, um, care if I eat that much as long as I’m hidden and my friends are safe.”

“That is not a thing to be proud of Potter,” Snape replied slowly, his eyes narrowing, “but to answer your question, not even a muggle blood hound could find you without permission. To make it quite clear neither could a magical one.” 

Harry nodded quickly, then hopped off his cot. He picked up his half finished essay, and his bottle of ink. He didn’t know where his quill had fallen, and looked under the sheets for it. Finding nothing, he waved it off and put all his other stuff back in his trunk. He kept his wand in his back pocket and hoped Snape wouldn’t mind him having it on him. 

“What in Helheim are you doing?” Snape said suspiciously from the doorway, apparently refusing to get any closer than necessary to communicate. 

“I don’t have to leave my things here do I…?” Harry said, freezing in his picking up. He’d never considered that Snape would want him to leave his luggage here.   
He slowly turned his head towards Snape. What he saw wasn’t what he expected. The potions master almost looked confused, like he wasn’t sure what Harry was doing. Harry on the other hand couldn’t see why his professor was confused. He had picked up his small mess without prompting, isn’t that what he was supposed to have done. 

“Sir…?” 

Snape blinked twice, and a firm frown replaced the confusion. “Where do you intend on going Potter?” 

“Oh! I- uhm, with you?” he answered, suddenly unsure of what he was supposed to be doing with his hands. “If that’s alright?” 

The man breathed deeply through his nose. His frown seemed to twitch, Harry wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. “Yes it is, you may keep packing then. Ask Madam Pomfrey to bring you to the old floo portal,” with that Snape left the wing. 

Harry had no idea where the ‘old floo portal’ would be, but he had a striking suspicion that it would be in the dungeons. He quickly finished packing, and as an afterthought made his bed so Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t nag him to do it once she came back from wherever she had gone.


	4. Chapter four

Harry looked around at the tapestries lining the walkway to the lower levels of Hogwarts. They seemed more alive and interactive than they did in the school year. Probably because they didn’t have to deal with mystified first years. Since he wasn’t exactly strong enough to even attempt to lift up his trunk, Madam Pomfrey levitated it beside them as they walked. She muttered an impressively complicated string of semi-innocent swears as the charm wavered slightly. Causing his trunk to precariously dip to one side. 

They were, in fact, travelling to the dungeons. They were taking a route Harry had never seen before and was weary of any trick bricks or walls. He guessed that most Slytherins knew the lower levels of Hogwarts better than any other house. It wouldn’t surprise him that they had travelled this exact dingy hallway in search of a hidden passageway. 

Not that he wouldn’t have done the same. 

“Should be just around this corner.” Madam Pomfrey muttered, her voice strained from keeping up the levitation charm. Harry wished he could take the load off her shoulders, and carry it himself like a normal teenager. However Madam Pomfrey had insisted that he was too weak. Being entirely too stubborn, Harry had tried to do it anyway and had almost dislocated his wrist in the attempt. 

With bated breath they turned the corner. The fireplace was nothing special. Although it did have a black tile backsplash, that may have at one point been deep purple. On its mantle was something that resembled a small jewelry box. He’d bet his next Hogsmeade trip that inside it was floo powder. 

“He should be here soon Potter.” Madam Pomfrey commented, lowering the trunk next to his feet. He tentatively walked back a few steps. It wasn’t like he didn’t trust the nurse, he trusted more than some of the Gryffindors in his year. Dean had proven that he wasn’t the most trustworthy person in a game of cards. It was only that she had proven herself to be not the best at levitation charms. He would rather not have his feet crushed. 

With a heavy thud the trunk fell the last few inches, and Harry winced. Hoping that any stray ink bottles hadn’t smashed. 

“Stay here and don’t go off wandering. It’s been awhile since anyone got truly lost down here, but I wouldn’t put it past you dear.” Madam Pomfrey said with a hint of a smirk. Harry was a bit offended, but couldn’t exactly blame her for saying that. 

“Fine.” he said sullenly, looking at the fireplace with trepidation. Was he really going to go to Snape’s house of all places? And for what? Avoiding a little uncomfortableness? 

Pomfrey frowned, and snapped her fingers to get his attention. “This may not be as bad as you think, Severus is a surprising man. He may surprise you.” 

“Am I?” the now familiar voice startled Harry and he whipped around to see his potions master. The man had his arms crossed, his forever frown still imprinted on his face, and one eyebrow raised pointedly at Pomfrey. Who scoffed at his dramatics. 

“Do you think I’d be the person you’d come to complain to if you weren’t?” Madam Pomfrey challenged, her old voice held just a sliver of fondness. 

“You’re the nurse, a lot of people come to you with their problems.” 

“Yes but not full grown men, who think it’s stupid to have to grade papers on the day they’re turned in.” 

“It is.” Snape responded dryly. 

Madam Pomfrey only smirked, and turned back to Harry. “Good luck, and don’t let that wet blanket weigh you down.” she nodded her head back at Snape, who made an offended sound. The interaction made Harry smile slightly. It was hard not to when someone described Snape as a wet blanket in front of the man. 

She strode away, and Harry watched her back remorsefully. “Well then,” Snape commented, startling Harry once again, “this is your last chance to escape back to the hovel of a home Petunia owns.” 

Harry glanced back at the unassuming fireplace, and frowned. Was he really going to give up his steady tatic at staying hidden? It may have not been the healthiest tatic, but it was one. It was a tactic that he was confident would keep him hidden. Keep him away and out of sight. That was the only way he could help the soon-to-be war effort so young. His orders rang through his head again,  _ just stay there.  _

“Honestly, I don’t think I’m going to be able to hide properly-” 

“Potter,” Snape interrupted Harry’s doubtful speech, “no fourteen year old boy should be afraid to step outside.” he said firmly. “Hiding is not the same thing as being trapped.” 

“But-” 

“Whatever it is you’re concerned about, forget it. The only thing stopping you from finishing your summer semi-contentedly is your own paranoia.” Snape stated firmly. Harry didn’t know what to say to that. Was he really being paranoid? Or was he just concerned? Harry realized that he was brewing himself a stupid mix of both. 

Snape seemed to take his pensive silence as permission to cast a flame in the hearth. The magic flames were soft yellow, they looked out of place in the gloomy hallway. He opened the small box, and a decent amount of floo powder was inside. He took a pinch and flung it into the fire. He muttered what sounded like an address. The flames turned bright lime green as the powder hit their mark. The potions master turned back to him and raised an eyebrow in question. Harry gulped loudly, and nodded reluctantly. 

Snape grabbed his trunk with surprising ease, and Harry felt a small flush of shame. He couldn’t even lift it off the floor, and his mid aged professor could do it without a glimpse of strain. He carefully placed it in the flames and it quickly disappeared with a puff of smoke. The potions master gestured to the fire, suggesting wordlessly that he step in. Harry shook off some remaining doubts, and stepped into the fire. 

In a flash, the castle of Hogwarts tumbled far far away and Harry flew out of an unfamiliar fireplace and into an unfamiliar home. Whatever he had been expecting was not this. He lay on his back looking up at an old tin ceiling. He slowly sat up and looked around what he guessed to be Snape’s living room. To say that he was surprised would be an understatement. 

Two modestly sized sofas faced each other with a time beaten wood coffee table in between them. The walls were what Harry would call baby blue with a white trim. He sat on an old red rug, that Harry guessed covered hardwood floors. The room looked surprisingly normal, and  _ muggle _ . The newspaper on the coffee table wasn’t a wizard one, all the pictures on the front page blinked up at him unmoving. 

Within a few seconds after his semi-crash landing, Snape stepped elegantly out of the fireplace. Not looking at all surprised to see Harry sitting on the floor looking around the room with a slack jaw. He looked more annoyed than anything. “Close your mouth Potter, you’ll catch flies.” Snape said, sneering down at him. Harry closed his jaw with a click, then took a second to relish the fact that he _ could _ move his jaw without having to deal with cracked bleeding lips. 

He got up and looked around the room some more, he didn’t know if he was surprised or not by the small tv over the mantle place. “Uhm… you live muggle-ish?” he asked dumbly. Noticing the trunk by one of the couches, he went to stand by it. 

“I grew up muggle-ish as you call it, can you carry the trunk?” 

Harry smiled sheepishly and shook his head no. The little flush of shame was back again, making the tips of his ears burn. 

Snape didn’t reply directly, but he rolled his eyes. He picked up the trunk again, and glanced at Harry to make sure he would follow. They walked into a wide hallway, which looked just as muggle as the living room. The rooms they walked past had almost a burrow vibe to it. Everything worn with use and slightly old. Some of the room’s doors were closed, and Harry wondered if that was where his ‘magic’ rooms were. Finally he paused at a door with a plain iron door handle. Harry took initiative and opened the door for him. 

Inside was a bedroom, and it looked like it belonged in the Hufflepuff dormitories. Not that he knew what they looked like, but if he had to guess it would look something like this. A simple four poster bed, a very fuzzy light yellow rug, a dark hardwood bureau, a closet, and a giant window. Harry stared at the window for a few seconds. For a moment he expected the same cheap plaster to cover it up and block the magnificent sunlight from entering. It took him a second to figure out it wasn’t just a window. No, it was a window  _ seat _ . A dark blue cushion lined the platform, with so many pillows he wasn’t sure if he could even sit on it. 

Snape cleared his throat and Harry looked back towards him. He’d almost forgotten the wizard was there. Which was ridiculous, because he should be on high alert right about now. Checking for any booby traps or dark wizards lurking around corners. But he just couldn’t right now. The house was just so calm, peaceful, and _ lived in _ . It didn’t feel like the sort of place Severus Snape would spend his time, much less live in. 

“If you would kindly move out of the way it’d be most helpful.” Snape’s voice was ridden with strain. Harry quickly moved out of the way and let the man into the cozy room. He set down the trunk at the end of the bed. Harry watched from just outside the door frame. Was Snape sure this was his ‘room’? Wasn’t he supposed to bring Harry to a dank dungeon, throw him a loaf of bread and say ‘good luck, hope you’ll survive long enough to do your homework’. 

Snape looked back at him and scowled. “Don’t look so surprised Potter. Dinner’s at six, in the meantime,” he blew out a long breath and looked around the room, “settle in.” with that Snape walked past Harry and into what Harry thought was the kitchen. 

The thought of Snape owning a fridge disturbed him more than he thought it would. 

He turned back to the very comfortable looking room, and decided he might as well try out the window seat. 

**~~~~~~~**

Harry hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he woke up. Someone was banging on his door. For one moment of complete ludicracy Harry thought it was Uncle Vernon, terror rushed through his veins. Freezing all rational thought. The few times Uncle Vernon had visited his room had not been pleasant. 

Then his eyes took in his lovely surroundings, and he relaxed. For the first time since he was taken from the Dursleys he was relieved to not be there. He licked his lips, surprised slightly that he could now summon saliva on command, and swung his legs off the far too comfortable window seat. His back had a slight kink that he stretched out, maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to take a nap on the window seat. 

“Yes?” he called, wincing as his voice cracked yet again. 

“Get out here!” came a high pitched voice that Harry did not recognize. More curious than afraid, he got up and approached the door. He slowly opened it, and glanced around. He saw no one. 

A throat cleared below him and he looked down. His eyes widened as a rather grumpy house elf glared up at him. He was on the older side of the house elf age spectrum, but nowhere near as ancient as Creacher. 

“Well? Do you want food or not?” he asked rudely. At least Harry thought they were a he. You could never be quite sure with house elves.

“Odin,” Snape called with a chastising tone, but overall he just sounded tired, “don’t be naive, of course he needs food. He’s been starved for  _ sanglant  _ sake.” 

‘Odin’ scoffed like he wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, all that means is extra work for me. Now do you want it or not kid? I’ve got clutter to clear.” 

“For the last time it’s not clutter!” Snape shouted from the other room. 

“What else am I supposed to call it then?” Odin shouted back. 

Harry stood in the doorway awkwardly, not sure if he should intervene or not. He cleared his throat, and laughed nervously. The action caused Odin to turn his glare on him. “Uhm, I don’t really know what’s happening.” 

“That’s obvious.” Snape said, appearing in the hallway. He had changed, instead of his dress shirt from earlier, he wore a surprisingly casual long sleeved shirt. “Potter, this is Odin,” he said nodding at the house elf still glaring at him. “He won’t harm you unless you mix your colors and whites in the laundry.” 

Harry looked back to the grumpy house elf, “Hi?” 

“Hi yourself kid, I doubt you even have suitable clothes. I mean look at you! That shirt would sooner fit a toddler than you!” Odin slandered, waving a wrinkly hand at his too small uniform. “And did you sleep in it?! Absolutely disgraceful! Shame on you and any garments sad enough to be worn by you!” 

“Odin,” Snape said, Harry had the sneaking suspicion he was amused by the house elf, “don’t terrorize him so soon, he’s in Gryffindor after all. Heimdall knows how any of them managed to survive this long.”

Odin spared him one more disapproving squint and turned. He waddled off to what Harry was sure was the kitchen. The Gryffindor looked down at his rumpled clothes. Yeah they were a little small and his knobby hands and wrists stuck out like tree branches, but it wouldn’t fit a toddler. At least Harry hoped they wouldn’t. He’d like to believe he was at least taller than a three year old. 

Movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see Snape heading back into the room he came from. Harry hurried out of his own cozy room, and followed him. A long darkwood table and chairs awaited him in the room. The wood tone matched all the other wooden furniture in the house. 

Snape settled himself into a chair at the head of the table. Not sure where to sit, Harry sat down in a chair approximately in the middle. Snape didn’t seem bothered by Harry’s seating choice. If anything he seemed slightly amused, which only made him flush even more. He didn’t like being the center of entertainment. 

“Odin doesn’t mean to be condescending.” he commented lightly, his sardonic smirk deepening throwing off any attempt at comfort. “He’s more upset with me than with you.” 

“Doesn’t seem like it.” Harry muttered, looking down at his less than stylish outfit. Snape chuckled dryly, which Harry didn’t know whether it was aimed at him or the house elf. Possibly both. 

“He’s frustrated that I didn’t tell him we’d be housing another person sooner.” 

“Didn’t you tell him that you only found out yesterday?” Harry asked, coming to the slow realization on how odd this was. Snape, in a casual muggle outfit, was inviting him to stay in his house, he had accepted the invitation, and now they were discussing his apparently prone to mood swings house elf. 

“I did, but he had already gone to prepare one of the guest rooms. How did you find the furnishings? I’m not sure where Odin got them from.” the man said, apparently far more accepting and comfortable with this situation than Harry. On a regular school day it would probably take him hours to accept that Snape casually put his hair in a ponytail. Heck, just the fact that his hair was clean was mind boggling. 

“Do you think he stole it?” Harry asked uneasily. As much as he loved the window seat he didn’t want to be sleeping on a stolen bed. 

At that moment Odin walked in carrying what looked like a cheesy potato casserole with oven mitts. “Oh, don’t mind me, just the lone house elf having to improvise meal plans because  _ someone  _ didn’t tell me we were gaining a resident.” Odin said passive aggressively. 

“I deeply apologize Odin.” Snape stated, his smirk disproving any attempts at a legitimate apology. The house elf huffed and tossed a fabric trivet on the table. He gently placed down the casserole, with tenderness one would handle a child. 

With one more glare at Snape, Odin slipped out of the room once more. The casserole, for its part, looked absolutely delicious, but the thought of eating more than a half a helping made his stomach turn. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry, he was plenty hungry. Lunch seemed an eternity ago. It was more the thought of eating too much. His stomach, still fairly weak and untrusting. probably wouldn’t fit more than possibly a child’s helping. 

Snape seemed to get what was going through Harry’s head because he said, “don’t eat more than you can handle.” 

Harry nodded distractedly as Odin entered carrying a tray of thinly sliced chicken. He left without a sarcastic comment aimed at Snape. Only a half hearted glare, and a little scowl. When all the dishes were placed on the table, Odin stood by the table and looked at Snape expectantly. 

“Milk,” Snape gestured with his hand at Harry, “and a Stella Artois.” Odin nodded like he had expected this exact drink order. The Gryffindor found it kind of ridiculous that Snape couldn’t get these things by himself. He probably could, but Harry guessed that Odin would be the kind of house elf that liked to do everything by himself. Which was fine but Hermione’d have a fit over it. She still was a firm S.P.E.W believer, he was pretty sure she still had a few pins. 

In no time Odin had both their drinks in hand as he reentered the dining room. Once he placed an almost overflowing glass of milk before Harry, he was mildly surprised to see the house elf sit down across from him. Snape didn’t seem surprised at all, and merely served himself some casserole. Harry followed suit, and soon he had a little less than a child’s helping on his plate. He half figured he might as well get some canned applesauce to finish it off. 

They ate their meal mostly silently, neither the house elf nor Snape seemed inclined to talk about their days. Harry felt a weird inclination to interrupt the almost oppressive silence. He ignored it in favour of eating small bites of the chicken. Which was perfectly cooked and seasoned. If Ron were here the chicken would be gone within minutes. If Ron were here… 

No matter. 

He wasn’t. 

He hadn’t been. 

And that was fine. Their friendship was still undamaged, and as far as Harry knew Ron hadn’t been informed of what was happening. 

“So you live in a muggle house, but you have a house elf?” he asked randomly. The question had been nagging at him since the grouchy elf had banged on his door. 

“Hmm? I haven’t been able to get rid of him.” Snape remarked, as Odin glared dangerously at the man. 

“If I weren’t here, you’d have no chance of surviving.” Odin grumbled. The elf was wearing what looked like a big white shirt, and girl’s boxer shorts. Harry hadn’t said anything about the odd outfit when Odin had been disgracing his, but was now tempted to. 

“I do have a sense of survival.” Snape said dryly, giving Odin a warning glance. The same one he gave some of the more rowdy students in potions class. 

“Yeah, but you can’t grocery shop for the life of ya!” Odin turned towards Harry, who froze in his ogling, “do you know what this man eats when I’m on vacation?” 

“No?” Harry answered confused. 

“Pop tarts! Pop tarts I say! I have never been more ashamed in my life when I found out!” Odin exclaimed exasperated. Harry found the house elf’s expression a little amusing, but he bit back his smile. 

Snape rolled his eyes and crossed his arms defensively. “I was in a rush.” 

“In the morning maybe, that’s not an excuse to have one for dessert!” the house elf all but shouted.

“There was nothing else.” Snape muttered, glaring at Odin. He took a second to glance at Harry. When he saw his amused expression his scowl deepened. 

“Then get some chocolate! It’s not that hard to get chocolate bars Severus.” 

“It was eleven in the  _ sanglant  _ morning! Do you think I would actually go out to a convenience store in the middle of the night to get a  _ chocolate bar _ ?” Snape defended incredulously. The house elf huffed like that was exactly what Snape should have done. 

Harry found himself smiling. 


	5. Chapter five

There was a problem. 

Harry had neither tooth brush nor anything else to do with hygiene. And he wasn’t sure how to tell Odin. “Well?” the house elf demanded. 

“I- uh, don’treallyhaveoneatthemoment.” he rushed out. He looked down at his shoes, and prayed the rather intimidating house elf would leave him alone. He was tired, and had a really long and weird day. All he wanted was to go to sleep. Yeah, he had had a nap earlier, but he was still really sleepy. 

“Don’t mumble boy! Are you going to take care of yourself or not?!” The house elf asked sternly. Who knew an old house elf in a giant white tee shirt and girls boxer shorts could be so scary. 

“I- don’t really, uh, have one?” 

The house elf blinked up at him, his scowl morphing into something akin to disgust. “You don’t have a what?” 

“A tooth brush, or er- anything really.” Harry said fiddling with his fingers. 

“And why not?!” Odin shouted. 

“I just don’t?” he phrased it more like a question. He really wanted this irregular exchange to be over. Defending himself from a grouchy, apparently pro-hygiene, house elf was a very new problem to deal with. 

Just then Snape appeared in the doorway, and regarded the scene with poorly veiled amusement. “Is there something wrong Odin?” Snape asked. The house elf turned over and stormed up to Snape. 

“Yeah there is! That one doesn’t have a tooth brush o-or anything!” Odin accused, jabbing a finger back at Harry who felt like he had been caught doing something very bad. All he had wanted was to change into some of Dudder's old clothes and go to sleep. The bed looked very comfortable after all, even though it might have been stolen from somewhere. That had been the plan until Odin strutted into his room and demanded to know if he had brushed his teeth. Without thinking he had responded ‘no’. Cue a very pissed off house elf dragging Harry down to a modestly sized bathroom and demanding he brush his teeth. When he said he couldn’t, Odin had wanted to know why. 

And here they were. 

“Is that true?” Snape asked, looking up at Harry. Who shrugged guiltily, he hadn’t really had the option of brushing his teeth at the Dursleys’ house. Maybe a drink straight from the tap if he were lucky. But brushing his teeth? Out of the option. “Do you think you can go one night with only mouthwash?” 

“Yes?”

“Good, we’ll get some things for you tomorrow.” he said, he walked to the medicine cupboard above the sink and got out a bottle of electric blue mouthwash. He placed it on the counter. He waited till Harry swished and spat like the bottle instructed before he spoke again, “is there anything other than hygiene products that you need?” 

“Clothes!” Odin called where he was still fuming quietly by the toilet. “If the fool needs a toothbrush he might as well not dress like an idiot.” 

Snape nodded like he was seriously taking the house elf’s words to heart. “I don’t need that much,” Harry half heartedly protested. 

“Since you came here wearing a shrunken school uniform, which you  _ slept in,  _ you’ll need at least a new wardrobe.” Odin said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“I’m really fine,” Harry said again. 

Odin continued on like he hadn’t heard him. “This one can’t be trusted to get you acceptable attire.” he waved a hand at Snape who looked a little offended. “So I’ll be accompanying you two, and I think some experimentation is in order so we’ll go to that thrift store you like so much.” 

Harry by now knew there was no point in arguing with Odin but sent a pleading look at Snape. He really didn’t want to be on the brunt of whatever this ‘experimentation’ was. He had a feeling it would include a lot of awful clothing choices and having to perform a terrible fashion show in front of one of his least favorite teachers. 

The man caught his pleading stare and _ smirked _ . “Alright Odin, but do come up with a better disguise than last time. I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to obliviate any pedestrians.” 

“Last time was an accident! If that boso didn’t bump into me then-” Odin cut himself off, and glared up at Snape who did not look he believed a word the house elf had said. “It had been working fine enough.” 

“A mariachi hat and raincoat is not a suitable disguise.” Snape said dryly. 

“You said we were going to a Mexican restaurant!” Odin defended, throwing his skinny arms up like ‘what did you want me to do?!’

“Latinos don’t wear a mariachi hat unless it’s for tourism or tradition. Neither of which the Fajita Place entails.” 

Harry was still standing by the counter, momentarily forgetting his almost certain embarrassing experience the next day. This was just too entertaining to fret about anything too dreadful. Seeing Snape this human, this  _ muggle,  _ was definitely odd. It was odd that he hadn’t barked orders once. It was odd that he had a ponytail. It was odd that he put up with a grumpy and intrusive house elf. It was odd that he had, from what he could tell, a working television. It was odd that the man in front of him acted almost nothing like the intimidating potions master. And more like a tired uncle, who had to look over his sister’s kid for the summer. 

“It was raining! I need more protection than that flimsy raincoat.” 

“Ah yes because if you go out in the rain you’ll melt.” Snape responded sarcastically. However funny it may have been, it caused Odin to fume with rage. 

“I didn’t say that!” Odin shouted. “Rain’s just creepy! Where does it come from? Why is it there? I don’t like rain and you know that!” 

“Indeed.” Snape said solemnly, most of the teasing from his voice gone.

It took Odin a second to figure that Snape was only playing with him before he stormed off muttering something like, “water falling from the sky, what a bunch of useless sorcery!” 

“Is he okay?” Harry asked, fighting a chuckle that threatened to erupt. It wasn’t funny. Odin seemed genuinely disturbed by rain. 

“Odin is a little skittish around weather,” Snape said, not holding back a small chuckle. “Do you need more than just clothing Potter? Shoes perhaps?” Snape asked in the same tone he had debated with Harry over whether his friends were more important than him or not. It was that same weird sympathetic tone that made Harry pause and want to tell the truth. 

It was a weird feeling wanting to trust Snape. It almost felt like manipulation, yet there was this underlying current that  _ assured  _ him he was simply curious. You could tell that he meant no harm only because he was using that tone. He added  _ that tone  _ to the list of things about this situation that was weird. 

“Kind of,” Harry answered truthfully, “my school shoes have growing charms on them.” 

“Are they the only pair that have the charms?” Snape inquired, leaning against the doorframe. Simultaneously making himself more comfortable and blocking Harry’s exit. 

“Yes,” Harry admitted, glancing down at his bare feet. He had changed into his one pair of threadbare pjs. Like all of his casual clothing it used to belong to Dudley, so it was baggy. The horrifying thing was that Dudley had outgrown these at eight years old. Harry was currently fourteen. It didn’t help your self esteem to know you were wearing an eight year olds outgrown clothing. 

“Jackets or boots?” 

“I have some old winter robes.” 

“Unfortunately that doesn’t count going by how your informal clothes fit.” Snape said, giving Harry a quick up and down sweep of his eyes. “And if I’m assuming correctly those don’t seem to be yours originally.” 

Harry laughed nervously, and toed one of the black tiles that checkered the bathroom’s floor. “They aren’t,” Harry said shrugging, Snape hummed like he had expected as much. Finally he pushed himself off the doorframe and started out the door. 

“Do try and get some sleep Potter, there’s a lot to do tomorrow.” 

**~~~~~~~~~**

Harry stared at the abundant pile of clothes in silent horror. Lesson learned for the future, if Odin the house elf ever utters the words 'experimentation’ and looks him in the eyes while saying it. He better hop off his skinny arse and run for the hills. “Do you not know how clothes work?” Odin called from the other side of the changing curtain. 

Currently they were in a thrift shop a little ways away from downtown. Harry being the paranoid Gryffindor he was, was a bit terrified of leaving the house. If he left the house he wouldn’t be protected by the ministry grade wards. Then what would happen? Death eater attack? Dementor ambush? Whatever was to happen Harry was sure that it wouldn’t be fun or safe. 

Odin had scoffed and physically dragged him by the wrist down the sidewalk. All the while Snape followed from a good distance behind and watched smugly. Harry had the sense that he had been in Harry’s exact predicament more than once, and felt no pity for him. 

Odin’s disguise was simply a giant orange hooded jumper that fell past his knobby knees. Harry, with lack of a better option, wore the same outfit from yesterday. Much to Odin’s immense disapproval. Snape donned an outfit almost identical from the one he wore to Hogwarts yesterday, except the grey flat cap was back. No evidence of its previous torture was to be found. 

Being dragged by the wrist down a very busy street by a house elf in a ginormous orange hoodie did not do great things to his confidence. 

Once they walked the gruelingly embarrassing mile to the thrift shop, Odin had gone off on a hunt to get some clothes for Harry to try on. The only sign he was still in the shop was the sudden flashes of orange, and the sudden shouts of swearing. Snape had, much more calmly, led him to a rack with various types of shoes that looked like they might fit him. They had only found a pair of semi-used dark blue plimsolls, when Odin had come waddling back. His arms had literally overflowed with clothes. 

Harry had followed the house elf to a dressing room in the back. Which looked like it hadn’t been used since the 1800’s. The dust bunnies were practically building a colony underneath the shallow bench. Undeterred Odin had dumped his enormous bundle of clothes onto the bench. He shoved Harry inside, and closed the privacy curtain that was the only thing that separated the little corner from the rest of the store. 

“I do, I’m just not sure whether to start with the bright green tank top or brown scarf.” Harry called back sarcastically. 

“The tank top!” Odin replied, seemingly not picking up on the sarcasm. 

Fuck it. 

He had been embarrassed enough today, what was one more dousing? 

Harry grabbed the tank top, and what vaguely looked like bootcut jeans dyed dark purple. Harry spitefully pulled on the offending garments. He tugged back the curtain and waited for Snape to laugh at him. The potions master didn’t, but he looked like he very much wanted to. Odin regarded him carefully, then shook his head. 

“Purple isn't your color. Try the black shorts.” Odin demanded waving a hand dismissively. Harry stared at him a little in shock, he glanced at Snape who was not looking at him. Rather, he was looking at his shoes with what looked like an ashamed smile on his face. 

“Uh huh, sure.” Harry exclaimed sarcastically, causing Snape’s shoulders to shake with a silent laugh. Harry squinted at him accusingly, then closed the curtain again and went to begin his search for the black shorts. 

He didn’t have to look long before he found a pair of, in his opinion, far too short shorts. He dutifully changed into them, and found himself pleasantly surprised. They were high waisted, with little copper buttons along one side. The material was a bit like jeans, and wasn’t actually all that scratchy. 

The tank top didn’t quite go with them, but he was sure something in the pile of clothes would. He began digging for something to match the garment. He soon found a baggy shirt with a giant monochrome picture of an ice cream cone on the front. Harry tugged off the tank top and pulled on the shirt. He looked in the floor length mirror. Something wasn’t quite right… with a slight trepid manner he slowly tucked the shirt in. 

He blinked back at himself. It was… well he couldn’t quite find the words. He looked good, nice even. The only thing stopping him from shoving the outfit in Snape’s smug face, was that he had never seen himself in something like this. He had always stuck to what was normal for males his age to wear. This outfit was something he would see on Padama, or maybe even Parkinson. Not something he would ever consider himself wearing. It was too… feminine? Was that the right word? It didn’t feel feminine, it looked feminine though. Did that make sense? 

It looked like he had routed through a female’s closet and picked out an outfit. But it felt like he could wear this sort of thing to a muggle school or something. 

It felt… right. 

But it didn’t look right staring in the mirror. It looked more like he was wearing someone else’s clothes. Even though they already felt like his. 

With a weird bashfulness he hadn’t experienced since he presented the wrong thing in History of Magic. Harry turned around and pulled back the curtain. Odin had been pacing in front of the curtain, his sweatshirt’s sleeves dragging on the floor behind him. Snape was sitting in a chair by a shelf of pink handbags. Harry had apparently taken longer to collect his wits than he thought he had. When he pulled back the curtain both their heads snapped up to look at him. 

Odin looked like he was about to chastise him for taking so long then paused. The house elf’s eyes scanned him up and down repeatedly. Apparently studying him for judgment. Harry looked over at Snape who only stared at him, a small frown on his lips. As Harry started to understand Snape’s facial expressions more, he placed that particular frown as thoughtful. 

“Is it that bad?” he asked self consciously. He knew it had been a bad idea to show them this particular outfit. 

Snape shook his head quickly and Odin seemed to fish for words. “You didn’t keep the tank top on,” Odin said, at a loss for anything else to comment. 

“You don’t look bad Potter, quite the contrary. It’s only an… unexpected look.” Snape settled on. The tone was back again. Harry didn’t know whether to be thankful, or a bit disturbed that Severus Snape had paid him a compliment. 

Odin seemed to be recovering from his earlier surprise, and was back to his grouchy demanding attitude. “Keep that shirt somewhere we can find it later, those shorts will need a few more things to go with it. Severus,” Snape who was already halfway out of his chair looked down at the orange clad house elf, “go find some more things like that.” 

He nodded and without comment disappeared into the many racks of second hand clothing. Harry returned his attention to Odin. “Do you actually think I look good in this?” Harry asked nervously. He hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up in the dressing room, now that both Snape and Odin had seemingly approved of his outfit. He wanted to know if they truly meant it. 

“Of course kid, you look fabulous. Now go try on some more shirts.” Odin said dismissively. Oddly enough, Harry relaxed at those words. He could count on the house elf to be blunt and truthful. Being called fabulous didn’t hurt either. 

Harry did as told and tried on three more shirts with those surprisingly suiting shorts. Then Snape came back with a few more articles of clothing. Without a word he handed them to Harry, who took them. More eager than he would’ve been yesterday to try on clothes. Who knows what he may find? 

He hurriedly went back into the dressing room and closed the curtain. He put the new stack of clothes next to the towering pile. He shifted through it and was mildly surprised to see a few shirts that really would fit toddlers.

Then it struck him. They were  _ crop tops. _

The tiny shirts looked innocent enough, all of them ranging in colors. None of them purple though. Harry didn’t know what to think. Did he really want to try on these strictly feminine garments? Things Uncle Vernon would have a fit over, if he ever saw Harry wearing them? That thought was what made Harry pick up a soft blue crop top with longish sleeves. If Uncle Vernon wasn’t here to harm him for doing something he wanted to, he may as well do it. He slipped the shirt on, along with white washed jeans, that were much more stylish than the purple ones. 

He looked at himself in the mirror and nervously smiled at himself. His lower torso was a bit cold but once he got out and into the sunlight, he guessed he would be fine. In the mirror it was obvious how thin and weak he looked. His skin was pale and a few stretch marks were scattered around his hips. With a bit more time to recover from his ‘starvation’, and some time in the sun… it would be perfect. 

He liked this outfit too. So did Odin, he once again sent Snape off to find some accessories of some sort. Snape had complied. Soon enough Harry had an entire wardrobe worth of ‘feminine’ outfits. 

When Odin had seen all he wanted to and was satisfied with Harry’s clothing choices; they checked out. Odin gathered all the bags in his skinny arms. Much to the lady behind the counter’s amusement. Harry figured she thought Odin was a rather weird child, who swore and made terrible clothing selections. Then he disappeared. Right in front of the damned muggle lady who stared at the place where Odin had been in shock. 

Snape sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. Harry imagined he was counting to ten in his head. The professor brought his hand down and looked around the thrift shop. He muttered something that sounded like ‘good’, and brought out his wand from where it was hidden in his pocket. 

He glanced at Harry, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tell Poppy about this happening, Heimdall knows I’ve been scolded enough.” Snape asked tiredly. Obviously worn out from all shopping even though Harry still hadn’t gotten any tooth paste. 

Harry nodded stiffly, and watched as Snape obliviated the woman like it was some sort of chore. The woman blinked and looked around dazed. Her gaze landed on Snape and Harry, and she smiled confused. 

“I’m sorry gentlemen, did you want to buy something?” She asked looking at Snape, he was obviously the elder of the two and was the most likely to pay. Snape nodded and picked up a packet of gum from a rack. Once they bought the gum, they left and started to head towards another shop. 

“Do you want a stick?” Snape asked hesitantly. Harry looked over at him, confused for a second. Then he realized he was talking about the gum. 

“Uh, sure, why not?” Harry replied, he couldn’t remember the last time he had something remotely sweet, much less chewed gum. Snape nodded and opened the package. He handed Harry a piece. The gum turned out to be tangerine flavored and was quite good. 


	6. Chapter six

Severus watched as the boy walked around the shoe store with wide eyed awe. It looked like he had never even been in one before. Which was ridiculous for a fourteen year old, who just happened to defeat the dark lord when he was an infant. Severus watched as Potter strolled down rows and rows of trainers, eyes darting from one shoe box to another. 

He’d need good trainers Severus had decided part way through the boy’s fashion show, which was a completely different topic altogether. Who knew when the opportunity to get good footwear would come again for the boy?

If Severus had anything to say about it then he would be able to get new shoes anytime he needed them. He would do what Petunia had failed to do, and he would do it correctly. Hopefully. He wasn’t sure how this entire caretaking business worked. Or what made an exceptional guardian be as great as they were. All he knew was that it wouldn’t be that hard to be better than Petunia. 

She had utterly failed at being a parent, and not just with the atrocities she put Potter through. Her own son, Dud-something, was fat as a beached whale and more spoiled than Draco Malfoy. Which was an impressive feat in itself. Not many people could handle a bigger brat than Draco, who wasn’t that much of a brat when it came right down to it. 

He had observed silently how the obese boy behaved, and came with a simple conclusion. The boy was cruel and deserved to be taught a lesson or two. 

Petunia had failed at teaching the boy any morals of any sort, in their place inserting disgusting biases and a snobby demeanor. Thankfully it seemed, Potter had somehow retained a polite and open personality. How he had done it in such a toxic household, where the residents clearly did not give a damn about him… was just astounding. The fact that Severus had failed to see, or even notice this while at Hogwarts was embarrassing. 

He vowed silently he wouldn’t let his own biases blind him to the reality of a situation again. Even if the subject of those biases was James Potter’s son. He just had to remember he was also Lily’s son, no matter who her oaf of a partner had been.

Potter had seemed to find a good pair of trainers he liked. Severus walked up to him, and looked down into the box Potter was holding. They were fairly priced for the quality, and looked like they would last him at least a year or two. Although you never do know how much a teenage boy will grow once they fully hit puberty. 

“Are these okay?” Potter asked nervously. 

“Have you tried them on?” Severus asked back, already knowing that he hadn’t. 

The tips of the boy’s ears turned red. “You’re allowed to do that?” Potter asked, glancing around the store. When he spotted the little girl at the end of the aisle trying on her pink princess shoes, Potter frowned a little. “Right then.”

Severus shook his head a little. He wasn’t sure if he was more disappointed in Petunia or himself. Potter moved to sit down in a nearby chair, Severus followed. Potter tried on the shoes and they ended up fitting pretty well. Although they were a little bit bigger than he was used to. Severus wasn’t all that surprised by that, but he still felt the small stab of shame behind his eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed the boys unearthly thinness every Autumn? Now it was bloody obvious. 

Once he had paid for the shoes, they left the small shoe shop. They had already gotten most things the boy would need at a pharmacy down the street. “Would you happen to need anything else before we go back to the house?” 

He felt a little victorious when the boy thought about it as a genuine question. When Potter had woken up, he had insisted he had not been abused or starved or anything of the sort. Now he was finally admitting he needed help, it was progress. 

“I-I don’t think so, maybe? I’m not sure to be completely truthful, socks maybe? Do I even need socks?” Potter mumbled. 

“Do you have any in your trunk?” Severus asked gently 

“Yeah, but I’m not sure they’ll last that long.” Potter informed.

“Will they last for now?” 

“I think so,” 

Severus glanced at a clock in a shop window, it was right around one in the afternoon. “Alright then, Odin should be done making lunch, although you never do know what he’s up to unsupervised. We should head back.” 

Potter nodded, and followed him down the route to his single story flat. Well it had been a single story when he had first bought it, that was almost twelve years ago. Over the months when he was home, he worked on expanding it from the inside. Using complex extension charms where they were needed, and setting a multitude of muggle and magical booby traps. If all went to plan, the order could use the house in the upcoming war. As far as he knew, only a few trustworthy families knew where he lived. 

Well, semi-trustworthy families. Not many light wizards would describe the Malfoys as a trustworthy family. Thankfully he technically wasn’t a ‘light’ wizard, not by Albus’s definition anyway. Either way Lucius had been his ally and friend since he got the brand marring his left forearm. He would trust Lucius with his life, and has repeatedly. He figured the man was getting a little annoyed with how many times he had to cover for him. He’d make it up to Lucius somehow. His son occasionally came over to avoid the other death eaters setting up camp at the manor, and on the rare occasion when Narcissa had  _ her  _ friends over. 

He wasn’t as close with Narcissa and whoever she saw fit to spend her time with are very idoitic folks indeed. Many just want her money. She knows this of course, the sly bitch plays with their hopes and then ends up taking  _ their  _ money. Snape knew from experience to never gamble seriously with the woman. Draco wasn’t allowed to make himself known to her ‘friends’, whatever tale she was letting them believe usually didn’t entail her having a son. Draco wasn’t at all hurt by this, and if anything Severus suspected the boy found it amusing. 

He just hoped that Narcissa didn’t plan on having any of her guests over anytime soon. Severus hadn’t yet explained that the Gryffindor golden boy was, until further notice, living at his abode. Draco didn’t mind Narcissa kicking him out, but he would definitely mind his ‘nemesis’ being in the same house as he. 

Potter kicked a stone out of his way as he walked up the sidewalk. The boy was suddenly looking a little weary. Poppy had said this might happen. As far as he knew Potter didn’t know the full side effects of the malnourishment. He had been too weak to carry his trunk, and to eat a full portion, but those were the only visible signs Severus had picked up on so far. Poppy had said that depending on the person, they may need extra time to sleep or experience bouts of dizziness. The boy had insisted he carry all the shopping bags, probably to prove that he could or something just as trivial. 

“Potter,” he said, causing the boy in question to turn his drowsy gaze on him, “would you rather I carry the bags?” 

Being a stubborn Gryffindor he shook his head, his eyes becoming even more unfocused. They continued walking Severus keeping a close eye on Potter. When he started swaying on his feet, Severus had had enough. 

“Stop.” Severus demanded, grabbing the bags from Potter’s weak grip. 

“I can do it.” Potter mumbled, squinting through his thick lenses. 

“I severely doubt that, now don’t be dull and rest for a minute.” Severus pestered, stringing the last of the multiple bags on his arms. Potter sagged a little in defeat, and let the full extent of his weariness show on his face. “How dizzy are you?”

“The world’s a bit tipsy,” Potter confessed, leaning against a stop sign for support. 

“Can you walk for a few more minutes?” 

“Uh huh, cun I just a stay ‘ere fer a sec?” Potter slurred, the boy looked up at the sky like it was the first time he was seeing it. 

Some passing muggles stared at Potter with either curiosity or poorly hidden disapproval. Severus sighed deeply and concluded that Potter would not be able to make it all the way to the house. Well without tripping or possibly spewing the remnants of his breakfast. Severus begrudgingly took Potter by the elbow, carefully walking him into the nearby gas station. Potter leant on him heavily, staring at his feet so he wouldn’t trip over himself. 

The teenager behind the counter, didn’t even look all that surprised at Potter’s state. He just pointed to the back of the station. “Loos’ over there mate.”

“Grats,” Severus grunted out, half-dragging half-guiding Potter to the restroom. Once inside, Severus hastily got out his wand. He had wanted to avoid this, but he couldn’t carry Potter to his house. Not with his pride and all the shopping bags. He quickly flicked a temporary silencing spell at the door and looked down at Potter. 

“I’m going to apparate,” Severus spoke slowly so Potter could understand his words, “do not throw up on the rug. Odin will have our heads.” 

“Wha-” was all he got out, before Snape flicked his wand in a memorized pattern and said the magic words(Severus should not have been amused by that). With a sharp crack they disappeared. They reappeared in Potter’s bedroom, Severus quickly let all the bags drop to the floor, so he could take Potter’s full weight in his arms. Potter looked around the room confused.

It was obvious the boy was disoriented but that wasn’t the biggest issue at the moment. Severus now supporting most, if not all, of Potter's weight, guided him to the still rumpled bed. Without much grace, Potter flopped down on the bed. Face down, and halfway off the bed the boy fell asleep. Severus rolled his eyes out of habit, then stopped the wave of exasperation that was sure to follow. It wasn’t Potter’s fault that he had passed out, if anything it was his own. 

Carefully Severus righted the boy so he could breathe normally. Once Potter was fully on the, probably stolen, bed. Severus debated with himself. Should he tell Poppy or not? She was coming over either way later that afternoon. They were supposed to brew another stock of medical potions in preparation for the war. The preservation charms alone would take him most of tomorrow to complete. 

She would obviously want to talk with the boy, Potter, being the goody two shoes he was, would probably tell her about the episode of sudden drowsy dizziness. Poppy would be offended if he didn’t tell her before Potter did. With a resigned little scowl, Severus left the room, not bothering to pick up the bags before he exited. Odin was nowhere to be seen in the kitchen, so he was most likely holed up in his own room. Not for the first time he pondered why he even kept the old elf around. Then he answered himself almost immediately; Poppy would be proud of him for acknowledging that he was lonely. Although he did have a small circle of friends he didn’t see them often. Either they were too busy, he was at Hogwarts, or he was doing a task for an evil madman. 

It didn’t leave much time for socializing. 

To ponder this and not admit that one reason he had tolerated bringing Potter in was to be unthorough. And Severus was nothing if not thorough. He had hoped that the boy would maybe be some reason to talk more. A reason to have more people over. As ridiculous as it sounds, Severus couldn’t deny it. 

He made it to his living room, and approached the fireplace. He cast a quick fire and flung a small helping of floo powder in. Poppy, as predicted, had not been entirely pleased with his news. She had promised to come over earlier than planned to give Potter a physical inspection. 

“And Severus,” Poppy said, her elderly face contorting in something similar to pride, perhaps relief, “thank you for telling me about his state.” 

“Why would I not?” Severus asked, a tad annoyed that she thought he would brush off a fourteen year old passing out. 

“Because it proves you aren’t heartless.” she answered, amused. 

“Haven’t you figured that out?” 

“I have, but I don’t think Mr Potter has his head wrapped around the concept.” 

**~~~~~~~~~~~**

Harry yawned loudly and snuggled back into the fuzzy pillow he was hugging. He felt well rested, if not still very sleepy. As his senses slowly came back to full strength he noticed two voices talking. He knew one wasn’t Odin, because the elf usually either shouted or swore loudly enough to hear distinctly. Instead the mystery voice was elderly, elderly and female. There were only three people Snape would possibly let into his house that were elderly and female. 

There was Mcgonagall, but if she were he would have been more suspicious of why she was here. If you know what he meant.

Then there was Narcissa Malfoy, who he guessed Snape was at least acquainted with. But if she were here, then she either wanted something to do with him or didn’t know he was here. Then there was the most likely option, the most esteemed Madam Pomfrey. 

He couldn’t think why she would be here. 

Then it started to come back to him, an embarrassing shopping trip, gum, and… an old gas station restroom? Harry slowly creaked open his eyes, no longer content to just stay in bed. Something had happened to him when they were walking back to the house for lunch. Did they get attacked or something? He couldn’t remember any duel of any sort. That being said those last few minutes were very fuzzy. 

He remembered suddenly feeling very dizzy, he had felt like he was going to trip over his feet if he didn’t stop immediately and take a nap. Which was ridiculous, it had been the middle of the day. One doesn’t suddenly pass out in the middle of the day. 

But the more he thought about it, the more certain he was that that was exactly what had happened. Was it some sort of side effect of being ‘starved’ or ‘deprived nutrients’ as Snape had put it. He didn’t remember passing out a possible side effect that Madam Pomfrey had spouted. 

Then again he hadn’t really been paying attention to her explanation, he had still been firmly opposed to the prospect of him getting ‘starved’. He was still tentative to be honest. 

Harry, now determined to talk to Madam Pomfrey on whether passing out was going to be a common activity for him to endure. He rolled out of bed, noticing that he was still fully clothed in his too small school uniform. Odin would probably nag him for sleeping in it. He could almost imagine what the house elf would say. ‘Again boy! I thought I had finally gotten it through that thick skull of yours! Only. Cretains. Sleep. In. Their. Clothes!’. 

He absentmindedly grabbed one of the thinner blankets and pulled it over his shoulders. He was still sleepy, and he would rather not leave the comforting warmth of the bed behind. Now that he finally had a proper bed to sleep in, he didn’t ever want to go back to sleeping on the tough mattresses bed at the Dursleys. Slowly he slid off the bed and made his way to the closed doors. They had closed the curtains to that wonderful window seat he noted. It was almost as dark as night, he wondered what type of drape it was. 

The door swung open easily enough, and Snape and Madam Pomfrey, who were on the other side of the door, froze. Madam Pomfrey smiled sweetly at him, and Snape’s scowl didn’t deepen, which Harry took to be a good sign. 

“How are you feeling Mr Potter? Dizzy?” she asked kindly. 

“Mm jus’ sleepy.” Harry mumbled, blinking the final remnants of sleep out of his eyes. She was wearing a muggle-ish outfit too, Harry noticed. She didn’t wear it with the causality that Snape did, but she at least looked like she could go out in public without embarrassing herself. Half the elderly wizards he knew couldn’t accomplish that, either because they were too stubborn or they simply didn’t understand a culture so detached from their own. 

Madam Pomfrey looked like she had no such problem. She wore dark blue jeans, and an old flannel shirt. An old cardigan hung off her shoulders, the front unbuttoned. She looked so grandmotherly it was almost astounding. 

“Good, so tell me exactly what happened prior to you feeling dizzy.” She said walking off towards the living room. Harry followed her, the blanket dragging behind him a little. 

“Everything?” 

“Everything.” She confirmed sitting down on one of the sofas. Harry sat on the sofa across from her. Fidgeting a little with the blanket so it lay in his lap. It occurred to him that he had unfortunately slept with his glasses on, making his nose ache. 

“We were um, walking back to the house. I was carrying the bags and it was around lunch time.” Harry recalled. 

Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow and turned towards Snape, who had joined them by the doorway. “He was carrying the bags, do you have no manners Severus?” 

“I already paid for the _ damné  _ things.” Snape sneered, apparently putting up a more aggressive attitude now that Madam Pomfrey was here. “Besides I did offer to take them from him.” 

Harry remembered fuzzily that Snape had asked if he would prefer it if he took the bags from him. The Gryffindor had said no of course. He had had to prove that he was at least capable of holding shopping bags, which weren’t really that full to begin with. 

Pomfrey frowned like that wasn’t quite a good enough excuse. “Either way you two need to be more cautious given Potter’s less than formidable condition. Speaking of which I do hope that you’ve taken ample time to rest.” she said, turning back to Harry. 

“Odin had demanded we go clothes shopping as soon as we all ate.” Harry said, blushing a little as he remembered the embarrassing walk down to the thrift store. 

He had definitely left quite the impression on a lot of muggles. None of which actually had any real impact on his life but he didn’t like being the center of entertainment. Especially when that entertainment was either embarrassing himself or getting laughed at. 

“Where is Odin anyways?” Harry asked, hearing a lack of shouting or swearing. 

“Somewhere upstairs,” Snape answered, giving a glance at the ceiling. 

“There’s a second floor?” Harry blurted. He didn’t remember seeing an upper floor when he had looked at the house outside. Pomfrey gave a light chuckle, and looked at Snape. 

“Didn’t tell him anything did you?” Pomfrey accused, Harry didn’t know whether she was exasperated or smug. 

“Figured he earned some time to adjust to real food before we informed him anything drastic.” Snape answered, pushing off from the doorway and coming to stand by Madam Pomfrey’s sofa. 

Pomfrey just clucked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly. “What is it with Slytherins and withholding valuable information? Utterly inconveniencing,” she admonished. “There is another reason for you staying here than this clown hasn’t informed you of.” she said turning back towards Harry meaningfully. 

“What is it?” his eyes darting between Snape and Madam Pomfrey. 

“With You-Know-Who back from the dead, something bad is sure to happen soon. It’s not the most positive thing to say to you right as you're recovering, but I’m afraid you cannot live in the dark anymore.” She took a second to clear her throat, and looked him in the eye. “You need to be trained properly if you are ever to survive.” 

“So you mean like, I need to learn to duel? But I’ve already done-” 

“No.” Snape interrupted, his face gravely serious. “Simple dueling techniques will not earn you one cent when facing a death eater Potter. You need to figure out the ins and outs of how a pure blood thinks. How they fight, how to retaliate, and most importantly,” He paused and glanced at Pomfrey for what seemed like permission, she nodded and sighed. “How to use the use of dark arts to your advantage.” 

Harry stared at him. He couldn’t be serious could he? He glanced at Madam Pomfrey and her slightly pained expression only confirmed Snape’s words. “So, me, a weakling fourteen year old Gryffindor, is learning  _ illegal _ magic in the presence of two Hogwarts staff?” Harry asked incredulously. This simply could not be happening. 

“Not that precisely, but yes. As far as I’m aware,” Pomfrey sent a quick suspicious look at Snape, “you will only be learning the spells and what they do. And as you grow more skilled, then  _ maybe _ you might just cast some of them.” 

“But isn’t there some sort of deadly toll if you even associate yourself with dark magic?” Harry was scrambling at straws and he knew it. Learning dark magic this summer would be too unexpected. More unexpected than staying at Severus Snape’s house, with his rude and intrusive house elf, and not finding it complete misery. 

Snape chuckled lowly, and for a second looked almost friendly. “That assumption is exactly why you need to be trained Potter. Dark magic is only something that has a grave effect on others, and if used for shellfish gain those results are backfired. ‘The weakling fourteen year old Gryffindor,’” Snape quoted his earlier words sarcastically, “that you are, you wouldn't be quite capable of pulling a soul out of someone’s fingers.” 

“That’s a spell?” Harry said, a little horrified. 

“Transfiguration actually,” Madam Pomfrey muttered, “either way it is disgusting and you will not be teaching him that.” she sent a pointed glare towards Snape, who rolled his eyes. 

“Not even I know the specifics of that one Poppy, Lucius on the other hand…” he trailed off, his eyes calculating as he stared off into the distance, “would give more than helpful advice.” he finished. 

“I still don’t see the appeal in his friendship Severus, the man’s a walking talking encyclopedia of the most dangerous spells known to man.” Pomfrey sounded almost like an overbearing mother. 

“Yes, but what you wouldn’t know is that he makes the best rum raisin ice cream on this side of the world.” Snape said, a small smirk falling back into his features. Harry placed this smirk as ‘fond’, if a smirk belonging to Snape could be called fond. 

Pomfrey muttered something like ‘young men and their stomachs’ and ‘bumbling pure bloods’. 

“What about all that other stuff?” Harry asked, Snape had said more than just he would have to learn the basics of dark magic. 

“Mr Potter please don’t take offence to this, but,” Madam Pomfrey sighed deeply, “you’re not the brightest when it comes to filing down to a solid plan. Especially in a time of danger, you tend to run to the most obvious places and tactics. It can be…” she searched for the right word. 

“Idiotic,” Snape supplied. 

“Not quite what I was going to say, but yes, it’s not very smart what you do under pressure.” Pomfrey said, sending what seemed to be a glare reserved for Snape every time they bickered at the potions master. 

“So what you’re saying is that I’m a fool during battle.” Harry summarized, feeling a little relieved that the dark arts weren’t the only thing he was to be studying. 

“Precisely,” Snape said before Madam Pomfrey could say anything more polite. 

“What does this have to do with having a hidden second floor?” Harry asked, impatient as to what all this had to do with Snape hiding a floor from him. Not that he had any right to know anything the man didn’t tell him. 

“As I was saying earlier Potter is that something bad is going to eventually happen, when it does we need to be prepared. Your ability to fight will have an impact on that yes, but we will need something more than just a talented teenager roaming the lands and fighting death eaters.” Pomfrey paused, and the look in her eyes told him that she didn’t approve of him fighting death eaters. “We will all need a place for sanctuary and healing. A place where we can protect the most weak and vulnerable.” 

“A hospital almost,” Snape added, leaning against the back of Pomfrey’s sofa. 

“Wait, so you’re making a hospital here?” Harry asked and Madam Pomfrey nodded. He glanced at Snape, who was looking at him with an almost bored gaze. 

“That does seem to be the goal yes,” he said dryly, “we do need to get working on stocking up for that inevitable ‘bad thing’. You are not the only reason why Poppy is here Potter.” 

“Indeed.” Madam Pomfrey agreed, “Speaking of which, Mr Potter there is some lunch in the fridge. Go eat, if you need anything from me I’ll be in the potions lab up stairs. Severus why don’t you join the boy for a snack, then give him a  _ real  _ tour of the house. Does that sound agreeable?” 

Truth be told, Harry wasn’t that hungry yet. He supposed other people would describe the pathetic whimperings of his stomach as starving. He described it mildly peckish. The never ending grumbling of his stomach, became a sort of ache one never really noticed unless pointed out. Like you may scrape your elbow, and a few days later glance at it in the mirror and think ‘ah, so that’s why my elbow was sore’. He technically knew it wasn’t healthy, he also technically knew that it was almost alway entirely useless to argue with Madam Pomfrey. 

Harry nodded obediently, and Snape rolled his eyes but ended up nodding too. 

“Good, now, where is that pesky house elf?” Pomfrey mumbled, she stood up from the couch. She went off and entered one of the doors which were always closed. 

Snape headed towards the kitchen, and Harry hurried to get up and follow him. He left the blanket on the floor by the couch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines day everyone!!! <333


	7. Chapter seven

Harry wandered around the magically expanded hallways in a state just short of awe. It really was meant to be a hospital, a place of sanctuary. The hallways were sterile white with colorful doors dotting the sides at irregular lengths. The doors which Harry had opened either led to more doors or colorful common room like spaces. Some were almost as big as the great hall. There were gym court areas, soft lounging places, and movie theaters. He had no idea what a bunch of wizards would do with a movie theater. Probably break it within the first screening. 

There were also lots of clinic rooms, storage spaces, and bathrooms. Almost like they were expecting half the wizarding population to move in. With a small start Harry realized that's exactly what they were expecting. A place for not only sanctuary for fighters, but for innocent civilians. The people who either didn’t want to fight or couldn’t. 

It took him and Snape a while to come back full circle to the wide staircase that led back to the regular house. “How long have you been working on this place?” Harry mumbled in amazement, looking back at the giant hallway that seemed to just keep stretching. He knew it didn’t, but it seemed so big compared to downstairs. 

“Twelve years give or take some months.” the professor answered casually. 

Harry turned his wide eyes on him. “ _ Twelve years?”  _ Harry repeated incredulously. Twelve years ago he was three years old,  _ three years old.  _ And Snape had been here already preparing for the worst.

“Yes, twelve years Potter, I keep forgetting your ears don’t seem to work half the time.” Snape said, rolling his eyes. 

The gryffindor ignored the jab, and looked back down the staircase. “Has Madam Pomfrey helped you the entire time?” 

“She started helping just after I became potions master. She didn’t believe me completely of course, the Dark Lord had just been defeated. How could he possibly come back?” Snape said, with yet another shrug, “It was ridiculous the amount of faith they had in you. Harry Potter, at the time, was the name of a  _ damné _ deity.” he sounded bitter. Harry couldn’t muster enough annoyance to blame him for it. 

“Poppy, as much as she didn’t want to believe me, sensibly knew that a mother’s love and an infant couldn’t stop one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time. Over time she grew to finally trust my motives, and the theory. Last year all but proved it was true.” Snape continued, a scowl making its way back to his face. “Half the wizarding community either thinks you're deranged, a quarter looking for attention, an eighth delusional, and one final eighth believes you half-heartedly. That’s not good odds Potter.” 

Harry nodded solemnly, and thought it over. Did people really not believe him? He wanted to ask more questions. He wanted to pry and figure out just exactly who he needed to convince. Instead he just gulped audibly, and looked away from Snape’s imploring eyes. 

“So when did Odin come to work here?” Harry asked instead. It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask, but he was still fairly curious about it. 

“When I left Prince manor, Odin followed me here. He demanded I let him take care of me until I no longer needed him. I’ve tried to free him multiple times, as you can tell by his… wardrobe. Yet he hasn’t come to the conclusion that I can take care of myself.” Snape’s gravelly voice took on a tinge of fondness. The tone he often took up while bickering with Pomfrey or Odin. Like they were family to him. It wasn’t the same tone he usually addressed Harry with. No, that tone was more like he wanted to be serious and trusted. 

“Cool,” Harry didn’t know what else to respond. Again it struck him how weird it was to see Snape this casual, and how comfortable he himself felt standing there talking to him. “Shouldn’t you be helping Madam Pomfrey with potions and stuff?” 

Snape glanced down at him, then fixed his gaze on what presumably was the potions lab. “If I do, you need to work on your homework. Then summon Odin, I want him to check whatever you write for spelling or grammar errors. If you don’t, then I won’t hesitate to inform Odin you slept in that shrunken uniform again.” 

“No, no I’ll ask him.” Harry responded immediately, he couldn’t think of the horrors Odin would scream at him for sleeping in his day clothes again. Snape seemed to be done with the conversation and left for the potions lab. Harry went back down stairs, and hurried to his room. Careful to avoid the kitchen or dining room where Odin might be lurking 

As he entered his room, he immediately went over to open the overbearing drapes. He opened them and relished in the feeling of sun on his skin. Instantly the room looked much brighter. He noticed a pile of plastic shopping bags on the floor. All of which held things Harry hadn’t even considered he needed something new of. Yes, he figured he would need new clothes, but he had always gotten by on Hogwarts uniforms and Dudley’s old stuff. The fact that he now had an entire wardrobe specifically picked out for him was exhilarating. 

He went over to the closet, and expected to see a bunch of bags on the floor. Instead all of his stuff was on hangers. Arranged order from red to purple, rainbow style. Most of the clothes were embarrassingly tiny. There wasn’t that much baggy clothes or trousers in the collection. Of course there were the occasional pair of jeans or joggers but they were greatly outnumbered by short shorts and some skirts even. A few sundresses and jumpers riddled the closet as well. He wondered what Ron would say if he ever saw the assortment of feminine garments.

Probably something like, ‘blimey mate, did you raid Padma’s closet or are you just mental?’ eventually he’d probably warm up to the prospect and say something like, ‘look, it’s not my style, but if you feel comfortable in them then go right ahead. I can’t judge, just beware of Ginny stealing your clothes.’ 

With a heavy sigh, he sifted through the clothes and decided on a light yellow crop top and dark blue short shorts. Satisfied with his current outfit and much more comfortable, Harry went to unlock his trunk. He fished for his half finished Care of Magical Creatures essay, and settled down on the comfy window seat and began to work. 

Around a half and hour later he scanned his work and nodded to himself. It would do. He called Odin, and the house elf appeared with a sharp crack. He glared at Harry, and crossed his stubby arms. He was no longer wearing the giant orange hooded jumper from earlier that day, instead he was wearing his large white baggy shirt. Now that he knew he got that from Snape, he had a sneaking suspicion that it had once belonged to the professor. 

“What?” Odin barked. His eyes squinted, studying Harry for any sign of fashion indecency. 

“Snape asked me to summon you to help check my grammar-” Harry didn’t get to finish his sentence before Odin had grabbed the parchment from his hands. 

“Well if you insist.” Odin said, his eyes scanning the parchment rapidly. His face not shifting from his usual scowl. “Three comma splices, seven incorrect capitalizations, and four misspellings.” Odin spat as he shoved the paper back into Harry’s startled hands. “I expect better of you next time! Grammar is not something to take lightly! I don’t care who your chump of a professor is, you need to be able to make a complete sentence. Now I know this is difficult for your puny brain to understand, but there is no need for a comma in every sentence. And your transitions into the next paragraph… disgraceful!” Odin shouted, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. 

Harry was half stunned, half impressed the house elf hadn’t actually swore. “O-okay?” 

“Okay? Okay?! Not just okay boy! Necessary! The next essay you do or whatever I want to see better transitions you got that?” Odin commanded. 

“Yes sir,” Harry stammered, glancing down at his essay. He honestly had expected more problems with his grammar. 

“Your handwriting is an entirely different issue, tomorrow I’ll get Severus to grab some fancy-ass tome filled fancy-ass calligraphy. I want you to be able to at least have presentable copies of all 28 letters.” Odin said, the house elf was pacing now. Probably thinking up more ways to torture Harry grammatically. 

“There’s only 26 letters,” Harry said. 

“Oh whatever! I just need to be able to actually read your shitty handwriting. Now I’m going to take a nap, if you need anything,  _ do not  _ call!” And with that Odin disappeared with a crack. Harry stared at the spot where the house elf had been for some time. He hadn’t had someone yell at him like that before. 

Usually it usually consisted of vulgar slurs or the sentences ended with a bunch or a poorly aimed jinx. Malfoy didn’t really yell, it was more of a teasing call. Vernon definitely yelled, but it was much much worse than anything Malfoy had ever done to him. Compared to his uncle Malfoy was actually a bit of a relief. There was still challenge and fighting, but it was more childish than actually scarring. It was… nice. As much as Harry didn’t like to admit it Malfoy was a nice distraction from the more real and adult problems he was forced to deal with. 

Malfoy was still a posh git though. 

Harry sat back on the window seat, his bare lower torso touching the cool glass. It felt nice and relieving after Odin’s little rant. He went back to work, fixing the problems had pointed out. When that was done, he figured he might as well read up on some History of Magic. He wasn’t quite sure what the homework was exactly but he knew it required reading,  _ a lot _ of reading. 

He got up reluctantly and picked up the thick textbook. He set the book down heavily on the window seat. And figured since he was slightly hungry and he could, he ought to get something to nibble on. It’d make reading the painfully dull reading topic a little more enjoyable. He set off towards the kitchen, and heard now two familiar voices talking. He turned the corner and into the kitchen to see Madam Pomfrey and Snape. Both had a beer in hand, and were talking in low voices. 

Madam Pomfrey noticed him first, and turned to say something. She froze when she realized what he was wearing. Harry self-consciously smiled at her. Snape didn’t seem all that surprised at his outfit. 

“Hi,” he greeted the two elders. 

Pomfrey seemed to snap out of her surprise and smiled creakily at him. “Hello to you too Mr Potter, may I just say that is a very  _ unexpected  _ outfit.” 

“Thank you...?” Harry said, walking towards the fridge. He knew there was some leftover cheesy potato casserole from the night before in there. He vaguely wondered if Odin would mind him eating leftovers in the middle of the afternoon. Harry awkwardly opened the fridge, he could practically feel the stares of Snape and Pomfrey on his back. Or maybe only Pomfrey, she had never seen him in a getup like this. 

He got the potato casserole filled tupperware out, and began hunting the cabinets for a bowl. After he found one, Madam Pomfrey seemed inclined to talk again. 

“I’ve never seen a young man your age wearing something quite like that. It suits you, your eyes go with the yellow wonderfully.” Pomfrey complimented genuinely. Harry felt himself flush a bit, but it wasn’t his usual blush. He usually blushed when he was ashamed or just altogether embarrassed. This felt different though. Almost like pride. 

“Really?” Harry said, searching the drawers for a fork. Without speaking Snape opened a drawer to his left, it revealed mixed cutlery. It was impeccably organized by type of utensil. He grabbed a fork, and murmured a little thank you. 

“Of course, it looks much better than that awful shade of red I always see you in. Personally I think almost any other color would look better than that particular shade of red.” Pomfrey commented. 

“Even purple?” Harry asked sarcastically, scooping a small helping of casserole into the bowl. 

“Absolutely, lavender would look amazing on you. Periwinkle would look lovely against your skin tone.” Madam Pomfrey complimented, her elderly face relaxing a little. She took a sip of her beer, which was very odd seeing the nurse do. 

“Dark violet may look good,” Snape muttered, and Madam Pomfrey nodded in agreement. 

“Really? Because Odin said purple wasn’t my color.” Harry said jokingly, as he placed his bowl into the microwave. And set it to about a minute. 

Pomfrey laughed daintily, and Snape raised an eyebrow. His scowl getting replaced by a mildly amused smirk. “Those trousers were horrendous, and a lime green tank top did not help your cause.” the professor said amused. Causing Madam Pomfrey to laugh louder. 

“Oh my,” she mumbled, her face flushed. He didn’t know whether it was flushed with either laughter or alcohol. The microwave dinged loudly, and Harry took his bowl of casserole out. 

Just as he was leaving the kitchen Snape called, “dinner’s at six, do not ruin your appetite with another snack.” 

“Got it,” he called back. When he entered his room, he went back to sitting on the window seat. He carefully placed the hot to the touch bowl on the thin windowsill. He opened up the thick tome of History of Magic, and began to read. Only as he finished up a paragraph about some troll war in the 1400s, did he realise how comfortable he was. How normal it felt to talk with Snape or Madam Pomfrey. How it felt really nice to be complimented by the elderly nurse, who has saved his life a multitude of times. How normal it was to see Snape in a casual Muggle getup. 

How he didn’t feel like Voldemort would suddenly smash through his window and kill him. 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

The next morning Harry rolled out of bed in his newly bought pajamas. Not wanting to suffer Odin’s rage, he trudged down the hallway to the bathroom. His new toothbrush and toothpaste now lived in the medicine cabinet above the sink. His toothbrush was obnoxious cherry red, he had chosen it as a joke. Seeing Snape’s blatant scowl as he had picked out the red one out of all the different options was a little funny. 

He brushed his teeth quickly, and meandered off towards the kitchen. Neither Snape nor Odin occupied the space. Since there really wasn’t a push to get out the door and into the shops like there was yesterday, Harry wondered whether the two others would sleep in. It was hard to imagine a house elf sleeping in, but it wasn’t hard to imagine  _ Odin  _ sleeping in. 

He fixed himself a bowl of cereal, and took the time to familiarize himself with the kitchen. He didn’t want to have to rely on Snape to show him where the forks were everytime he wanted a snack. Speaking of food he devoured his breakfast, and found himself with not that much else to do. 

He could go change and do his homework, or go hunt down a fancy scripted book to copy from. Or… 

A sense of giddiness struck him suddenly. He could do something with a freedom he had never had before. He could do something all teenage muggle born wizards could do on a lazy morning. 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Severus ambled out of his own room, and didn’t bother to brush his teeth just yet. He knew Odin wouldn’t awake until around ten in the morning. Yesterday had been a rare exception. With having a new resident and a impromptu clothes hunting trip (Odin would never admit that it was  _ shopping)  _ the house elf had been fidgety and had awoken early. 

Now that the agitation of the past day had dwindled Odin would most likely keep to his regular routine. As the man turned the corner he froze. This was not the sight he had expected to see this early on a Wednesday morning. Harry  _ James  _ Potter laying down comfortably on one of the two couches in the living room. His attention glued to the television. 

The program was about some sort of ancient civilization. The narrator sounded much too calm to be monologuing about the ancient trials of the Aztecs. Which often contained forced body mutilation, death, sacrifice, and all sorts of gruesome traditions. Potter watched with something similar to morbid fascination. Severus had experienced too many things akin to what the man was describing. Bar the cannibalism and drownings, he had standards. 

“What are you doing Potter?” He finally spoke, apparently startling the boy. 

Potter turned to him with wide panicked eyes. “I’m so sorry, was I not allowed to? I’ll stop it now if you- I’ll- I’ll um I-” 

“Potter,” Severus interrupted, massaging his temples. It was too early to get a migraine. “Stop panicking for Salazar’s sake, you are very much allowed to use the television. I was simply wondering what you were doing up so early.” 

“Oh.” Potter visibly calmed down, his hands seemed to subconsciously bunch in his shirt. He gave the older man a sheepish smile. “The Dursley’s never let me watch it, much less choose what I wanted to watch. I-I guess that I just wanted to explore some of the channels.” 

Severus nodded in understanding, it would make sense that Potter wouldn’t have access to something as trivial as TV. He scowled slightly, a small stab of regret behind his eyes. “And explore you may, have you eaten breakfast yet?” 

The question seemed to surprise Potter, who nodded a bit. Then the boy returned his gaze to the grotesque explanation of the female drowning ritual in order to soothe some rain goddess's rage. 

Severus continued on his intended path towards the kitchen. He noticed a bowl with a little milk residue at the bottom of the sink. So Potter hadn’t been lying, he didn’t know whether that small slice of victory was earned or not. He made himself a bowl of cereal. 

With a deep breath he decided he’d join Potter on the opposite couch. As he reentered the living room, the channel had been changed to some 70’s cartoon, with a smart aleck bunny for a main character. He quietly sat on the couch Potter was not occupying. 

Potter again seemed surprised by this. 

“Don’t tell Odin I’m eating cereal on the sofa,” Severus mumbled, turning his attention to the screen. If he had to guess, on Potter’s face resided a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the inconsistent posting times, I like to write most of the next next chapter before I even think about posting the next chapter. So I'm sorry if it's inconveniencing, but I can't lay down a solid schedule without feeling too stressed out. Love y'all <333


	8. Chapter eight

If Harry was required to describe his first week at Snape’s house he would use three adjectives; surprising, slightly disturbing, and comfortable. Madam Pomfrey had visited twice more throughout the weeks, alternating the days so Snape had time to put preservation charms over the batch of potions they had made earlier that day. Apparently putting indefinite timeline preservation charms on magic sensitive things like potions was taxing and took up to a day to complete the process. 

Usually when Snape was done for the day he collapsed inelegantly on one of the sofas. He usually collapsed just as Harry was waking up from his now daily nap. Madam Pomfrey had insisted on her second visit that he should build up some sort of routine around his inconvenient symptoms. Which now consisted of a regularly occurring bout of extreme dizziness and sleepiness. He found himself not having enough stubbornness to protest the proposition. The idea of a daily nap had sounded embarrassing and babyish at first. That was, until he discovered Snape dozing face first on one of the sofas. Harry had just woken up when he found him, and hadn’t been sure if he were hallucinating or not. 

He had taken up the habit of just after he woke up from his nap, to mozy over to one of the sofas and wait for Snape to come downstairs. He had accidentally done this on one of Madam Pomfrey’s visiting days. She had found it absolutely endearing to find him half asleep and waiting for Snape to come down. Finding a fourteen year old swaddled in, now his favorite, blanket watching Looney Tunes, and glaring at you sleepily must’ve been quite the sight. Add in the fact he was the savior of the wizarding world, it must've been adorable. Harry wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or just plain done with feeling bashful. He finally had the luxury of watching tv, he wasn’t going to sit and watch it pass by. 

Snape so far had shown no sign he was either opposed to or grateful for having Harry’s company. Harry himself wasn’t sure why he even bothered to spend a good hour waking himself up, with an either passed out, or drowsy Snape on the opposite sofa. He could be doing other things. 

With renewed reassurance he didn’t have at the Dursleys, he could go out and explore the town. Although it would be dull if there wasn’t someone  _ his _ age to explore with. He could do a marathon homework session and finish everything he was supposed to do for Transfiguration in one go. That wouldn’t be that much fun either. He could go up and explore the giant upper floor of the house. That might be entertaining but it would probably get repetitive real quick. 

Odin hadn’t commented on Harry’s new habit yet, not even a scornful glance. Mostly because Odin was rarely seen during the day. Usually only appearing to make lunch, then complain as he, Snape, and Harry all washed the dishes from breakfast and lunch. Then the house elf would disappear for another three hours or so. If he ever did appear then it was to go around muttering angrily as he dusted. 

Harry had gotten an impressive chunk of his homework done, all grammatically correct thanks to Odin. For the first time in possibly his entire life, Harry wished he wouldn’t run out of homework to do. Turns out he didn’t need to worry, because one morning when Harry was reading the comics section of some muggle newspaper, Snape walked in. The Gryffindor had gotten so used to seeing the man in casual muggle clothing, that it made him do a double take when the man walked in wearing his wizarding robes. 

“Are you going to Hogwarts?” Harry asked, confused as to why Snape was bothering to wear proper wizarding attire. 

“Have you entered Knockturn Alley before?” Snape asked instead of answering his question.

Harry thought back to when he had accidentally flooed to Knockturn instead of Diagon Alley. He had nearly given Mrs Weasley a heart attack, he remembered guiltily. “Accidentally or purposefully?” 

“I cannot imagine what you had to mess up in order to enter Knockturn accidentally. What me and Poppy told you what we were to be teaching you during the summer, do you remember it?” 

“That I will be learning,  _ not casting _ , illegal spells in order to think more like a posh pure blood? Yep.” 

“Excellent, you do have a functional memory, I’m afraid it’s a little shocking due to how poorly you answer most questions.” Snape replied. By this point in their begrudging relationship, he knew Snape was only joking. In his weird Snape-y way, it was a form of showing that he cared enough to even acknowledge him. 

“I have been known to remember the gist of life changing conversations.” Harry shot back, equally as sarcastic. 

“Is that so? I can’t believe it,” Snape said dryly, “Change into wizarding attire. Poppy and I will be in the kitchen in about a half an hour. Don’t keep us waiting.” Snape said, his voice sobering so Harry knew this wasn’t a request. 

Harry did as told, and changed into some jean trousers, white dress shirt, and black cloak Snape had gotten him. It was weird wearing such covering articles of clothing after a week of comfortable cropped jumpers, t-shirts, and short shorts. He argued with himself whether he should wear his Hogwarts shoes or his new trainers. He had ended up picking the trainers. They still needed to be worn in. Harry had been going pretty much barefoot the entire week. 

A half an hour later, he joined Madam Pomfrey and Snape in the kitchen. Madam Pomfrey was wearing a black version of her every day nurse outfit. She smiled warmly at him. Although warm, it didn’t reach her eyes. Harry figured she was just as nervous as he. Or maybe just tired, it was still fairly early after all. 

“Hullo,” he mumbled while getting himself a glass of water. 

“Hullo to you to Mr Potter,” she greeted, “has this dolt told you anything besides the basics?” Pomfrey said, ignoring the glare sent her way from Snape. 

“Not really,” Harry said, leaning against the fridge. 

“I thought not,” she said with a quick disapproving glance at Snape, “today’s goal is to help you know when an object is cursed or not. Not to mention we have to pick up some decent illusion make up for that  _ charming _ scar of yours.” she supplied the information gently but tersely. 

“Illusion makeup?” Harry asked. 

He self-consciously rubbed his scar with the pad of his thumb. He wouldn’t describe it as charming, more like a little buzzer that sometimes went off when a certain megalomaniac was around. It doubled as an indicator for people to know exactly who he was, and what he had done. Which he couldn’t even remember doing! 

“It’s a slightly, erm, illegal substance to hide dark magic scars such as your own. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find.” she informed him. 

“Are you carrying your wand currently?” Snape asked from the other side of the small kitchen. 

“No? Should I?” he had figured that somehow bringing his wand somewhere would be a way to track him. That or it would just be a hindrance. Since he was still under age he couldn’t do anything with it anyway. 

“On a regular occurrence I would answer yes, but since you are technically still living oh so  _ happily _ at the Dursley residence,” he said with a scowl, “underage, and just happened to be hunted by a Dark Lord; I would suggest you leave it here. If you do recognize anyone, and I mean anyone, do not make eye contact.” 

“Why not?” Harry asked, glancing at Pomfrey who didn’t look quite as grave, but still worried. 

“Your eyes are quite the indicator on who you are dear.” Madam Pomfrey answered. “Not to mention making eye contact could instigate that you believe yourself greater than the others, or that you are not afraid. That is not the image many wizards take kindly, especially in Knockturn. Unless you are doing it with a purpose, do lessen your eye contact with strangers and acquaintances.” 

“That doesn’t make sense though, making eye contact doesn’t-” 

“Body language means far more to Slytherins than verbal communication, it’s something you need to control meticulously unless you want to find yourself dueling someone twice your age and experience.” Snape cut in, marching out of the kitchen. 

They followed him to the living room, Odin wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Snape cast a fire, and tossed in a handful of floo powder from a box on the mantle. “Shall I go first?” Madam Pomfrey suggested. Snape nodded, the nurse shouted ‘Knockturn Alley’, and stepped into the fire. 

With a wave of his hand Snape motioned for him to do the same. Harry took a deep breath, shouted the destination, and stepped into the roaring green flames. The more he got used to using floos, the more he figured out how not to end up sprawled out on the floor when the journey was over. When he came shooting out the other side instead of bracing for impact, he simply put one foot out to catch himself. 

He had ended up needing to have Madam Pomfrey steady him anyway. Well at least he didn’t end up flat on his face. He looked around the small shop, it was plain compared to other wizarding shops he had been in. Plain stone floors, some shelves that held a mixture of surly owls in their cages, and an entire wall dedicated to fireplaces. 

“Your hood,” Madam Pomfrey whispered, patting some soot off her skirts. Harry flipped up his cloak’s hood quickly. A few moments later Snape came smoothly out of the fireplace. His gaze a lot colder than it had been in the living room moments earlier. 

Snape walked past Harry and Pomfrey barely giving them a glance. He walked to the door and exited without a word. Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue at his back disapprovingly. “Now then, be a dear and walk me to our destination.” she said, holding out her elbow, presumably for Harry to take. 

He took it, and ‘escorted’ her through the small shop. The man at the counter before the door watching them with skeptical eyes. Harry tried to ignore the small shiver that ran down his spine as they stepped out into the cloudy morning. There weren’t many wizards roaming about. Those who were made it known that they were not in the mood for a friendly chat with a stranger. 

Madam Pomfrey wasted no time and dragged him down the long alleyway. Her eyes glancing left and right, scanning the different sign names. Harry pointedly stopped looking at her face, and looked at his shoes. He would take Snape’s advice to heart, and not even attempt to make himself a threat.

Soon they stopped at a shop that was no different from the dozens they had already passed. It was drab and grey, with an old wood sign that read ‘Plumb’s Brewery for the Unfortunate.’ 

Harry thought the name was a little twee, but kept that remark to himself. 

“Here we are, please don’t talk, don’t make eye contact until necessary, and your name is Huston until further notice.” Pomfrey hissed that last part. Harry nodded, and wished that they could have thought of a better name. Huston, sounded like a rip off brand of automobile. 

Harry opened the door and held it for Madam Pomfrey, who looked pleased that she didn’t have to tell him to do so. Once she was in the shop, Harry closed the door behind them and took one quick look around the place. It was empty except for the old woman behind the counter, and some old man who looked to be in his 100’s strolling the aisles. By the look on his face, he was lost. The storekeeper behind the counter looked up and smiled thinly at Pomfrey. 

“Greetings Poppy, been awhile since I saw your healing arse.” the storekeep said, her tone a false guise of politeness despite what she just said. 

“Greetings to you as well Freya, do you still have so many cats that you go bankrupt every time you go out to buy litter.” Madam Pomfrey sniped back, her face portraying nothing of the potency of what she just said. Harry kept his gaze alternating from the old woman’s desk to Madam Pomfrey. Careful to not look ‘Freya’ in the eye just yet. 

“An’ who you got here? New apprentice of yours?” 

“No, he’s only here because Jerri didn’t want me to come here on my own anymore. Can’t say I blame him, your shop smells worse every time I come in. Might need someone to help me if I pass out from the stench.” replied Madam Pomfrey. Harry had no idea who Jerri was, or if Jerri was an actual person. 

Freya made a tsking sound, and gestured to the wide array of bottles. “Go ahead, take your pick. Tell darling Severus I said ‘hello’, and that he really should come by more often.” 

Pomfrey didn’t spare Freya a glance as she grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him off to the shelves. His eyes roamed over the different jars and bottles. Some were shiny, some almost looked like they contained clay, another looked like it was moving. Only a few had labels, but Madam Pomfrey didn’t seem to be having any trouble picking out which ones she needed. 

She picked up two canning jars filled with a dull brown substance and handed them to Harry. He held them without question and wondered what could possibly be in these jars that neither Pomfrey or Snape could brew themselves. Three more vials were added to the growing collection in Harry’s arms, and finally Madam Pomfrey seemed satisfied with what she picked out. 

They headed back towards the counter and Freya didn’t look pleased to see them again. Harry carefully placed the glass containers of potions on the counter. He had known he had done the right thing from an approving glance from Pomfrey. 

Freya picked up the jars and studied their contents. “Illusion make up? Why Poppy, I didn’t know you had it in you to be so naughty.” Freya said a sudden smile overtaking her face. 

“Don’t sound so surprised Freya, there is a reason I brought Huston here.” the nurse said, nodding back to Harry. He didn’t look up to Freya’s face and instead focused on the pattern of the wood grain on the counter. 

“Indeed, would you like these warded, bagged, or wrapped?” Freya said, slipping back into the falsely polite persona who had greeted them. 

“Bagged will be fine,” Pomfrey said. 

With the practiced ease only store employees possessed, Freya carefully packed all the jars and vials into a plain paper brown bag. “Will that be all?” 

“Yes,” Pomfrey said, not picking up the bag when it was placed on the table. Harry took that as a hint not to pick up the bag either. “What will be the price?” 

“Ten galleons,” Freya answered. Harry was a little surprised at the high price but didn’t let it show on his face. 

“And how much for discretion?” Pomfrey continued. 

A wicked smile crept on Freya’s face. “Five galleons, one more to insure secrecy under interrogation.” 

Pomfrey opened a small pouch that had been hidden in the folds of her skirts, and brought out eighteen galleons. Two more than needed. When she placed them on the table with a clink, Freya looked down with approval. 

“My my Poppy, this is certainly generous of you. Be secure in the knowledge that no one will know that your pretty nurse self walked in here along with your twig of a boy.” Freya said, greedily swiping the money into a coin sack that had been hidden beneath the desk. 

Another glance at Pomfrey’s face told him he could now pick up the bag. He did so, and they walked out of Plumb’s Brewery for the Unfortunate. Without needing to ask, Harry linked his arm with Madam Pomfrey’s, and they continued down the alley. They neared an intersection that was semi-familiar to Harry. The tide of wizards walking increased as they walked. He was careful to stick to the furthest edges of sidewalk. No one spared him and Madam Pomfrey a second glance, maybe that was just because the people started looking friendlier and friendlier. And not like they were watching out for an ambush attack. Harry figured they were nearing Diagon Alley. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter, the original was like ten pages long, I split it in two. The next chapter should be up in a day or so. If not, it will be up later today.


	9. Chapter nine

They rounded a corner and suddenly it seemed like the air around them was changing. The sunlight was more bright, cloaks were off people’s heads, and a steady throng of people bustled about. All acting for all the world that they were not standing next to the entrance of an alley where probably many illegal transactions occurred. 

Madam Pomfrey took in a large gulp of air, and exhaled a sigh of relief. “We’re out of that dastardly alley now.” 

“Where did Snape go?” Harry finally asked the question that had been tickling the back of his brain. 

“If he actually listened to where we are supposed to meet up, I’d say outside the Magical Teacup Factory.” Pomfrey said, her grip on his elbow loosening now that they were out of Knockturn. 

“Magical Teacup Factory?” Harry echoed, he hadn’t personally ever been in that store. 

“They make the most delightful China teacups, every little picture shows a tiny story. If you buy a full set you can customize the stories they tell. I personally don’t have a set, but I’ve heard Minerva has a set dedicated to the James Bond films.” Madam Pomfrey chattered, her shoulders relaxing. 

“James Bond movies, do magical people even know what they are?” Harry said, relaxing too. They walked amongst the crowd, one much more friendlier than the one they just walked out of. 

“I would suspect so, they made quite the splash in both the muggle and wizarding world. I must say the technology behind the making of them is amazing.” Pomfrey responded, casually taking the bag of potions from his arms. 

“What? Cameras and stuff?” Harry said, as he half heartedly fought to keep the bag in his grip, but he overall lost the small fight from a pointed look from Madam Pomfrey. 

“No, cameras have been introduced and accepted for some time now. It was more the art behind the scenes, the characters and scenery. It was more how these magicless muggles could create such cinema…  _ magic.  _ Those films actually changed quite a few opinions on muggle worth.” 

“James Bond,” Harry echoed incredulously, finally taking in Pomfrey’s words. “I wouldn’t expect that a lot of wizards would take an interest.” 

“Oh they did, even mighty Mr Lucius Malfoy fell in love with the work behind the scenes.” she said, shaking her head slightly amused, and slightly exasperated. 

“Really?” Harry said, surprised. 

“Oh yes, you should see him when he’s introduced with a new muggle trinket. I swear that man has way too many gadgets. I just can’t see why Severus even bothers showing Lucius more trinkets. He dissects them completely before the hour ends.” 

“That reminds me of someone, you know Mr Weasley right?” 

“Arthur? Oh my,” Pomfrey laughed daintily, “could you imagine those two working together on some muggle invention? They wouldn’t be able to stand each other,” she said, laughing some more. Her mood became even lighter, and with hers, Harry’s. 

“They’d probably burn the workshop down before they even started.” Harry said, envisioning the prestigious Lucius Malfoy with a ridiculous steampunk top hat, throwing curses and jinxes at Mr Weasley. Then his mind’s eye Mr Weasley, in a wacky bow tie and jacket, would cast right back. A halfway disassembled microwave neglected on a table next to the chaos. 

Madam Pomfrey giggled, and waved her hand slightly. “Oh stop it, you’re going to make a fool of me.” 

“For what? Laughing?” 

“No, for laughing at that. That was rude, I’m sure both men at least have  _ some _ self control.” she scolded even though she was smiling. They continued down the lane semi-quietly. Harry making the occasional snipe at Malfoy senior, and Madam Pomfrey hitting his arm and telling him to keep quiet. Soon enough Harry spotted a sign with a large tea cup painted on it. Madam Pomfrey knew this area, and was already pausing and looking around for the illusive Snape. 

They didn’t spot him until they were practically at the door of the china shop. The man was professionally blended into the shadows, drawing so little attention you’d think he’d cast a notice-me-not spell. 

“There you are!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, not bothering to keep her voice low as she reprimanded Snape. “You could have at least reminded me to tell Potter that you were fleeing the second we stepped out of the floo!” 

Snape sighed heavily and pushed off the brick wall where he was leaning against. “I could have, yes,” 

“And why didn’t you?” she demanded. Harry glanced around to make sure they weren’t attracting stares. Miraculously everyone moved around their little bubble. All caught up in their own probably much more ‘important’ conversations to pay attention to an old woman confronting a middle aged man. 

“I had prior things to take care of. Besides,” he said, gesturing to a wrapped parcel he was holding under his left arm, “these weren’t easy to convince Mandy to curse.” 

“You paid someone to curse items for you?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. He immediately clammed up, and flushed a little with embarrassment. He shouldn’t ask such stupid things, Snape clearly wasn’t interested in answering such a mundane and unthoughtout question. 

Snape though, only spared him a small glance before saying, “If I had cursed them you could guess more easily which I had cursed, and which I did not. A stranger’s curse is always more decrypted and,” he fished for the right word, “useful.” 

The Gryffindor only nodded, a little shocked that he had actually gotten an answer. 

“Well then, such you got your oh so important cursed items, where do you suggest Potter inspect them?” Madam Pomfrey said, still sounding rather pissed, but agreeable enough that she didn’t want it to turn into a fight. 

Snape didn’t sound the least bit bothered by Madam Pomfrey’s mood when he replied, “Rascal’s?” 

“That old Italian place?” Madam Pomfrey said back, evidently surprised by Snape’s suggestion. 

“There are not that many places on the light side of the alley that are gentle enough for Mr Gryffindor, and sketchy enough to allow us to handle the lesson without question. Rascal’s does have a good children's menu after all.” he said the last part sarcastically, causing Harry to pout slightly. 

He wasn’t a child. He may need a regularly scheduled nap, and ate child’s portions now, but he was in no way a child. He had bested Voldemort multiple times for Merlin’s sake! Somewhere in the back of his mind he dutifully acknowledged that Snape was the last person to actually treat him like a child. 

Madam Pomfrey seemed to pick up on Harry’s hurt because her frown deepened. “Severus,” she snapped, suddenly a lot more serious, “if you don’t start being agreeable right now, I swear-” she hissed something in a different language, French maybe? He knew Snape sometimes used French when he swore, he didn’t know Madam Pomfrey would resort to the same tactic. 

Snape seemed a little taken aback, because he blinked a few times and reset his face to a completely serious one. “I would never,” he stated. Pomfrey huffed like she didn’t quite believe him. 

“I sure hope not, now come on then, Rascal’s you said?” Pomfrey said, already dragging Harry back down the alley where they came from. Snape nodded once and the three of them headed off to this ‘Rascals’ place. 

As they walked down the alley Harry glanced around at people’s faces. Now that Snape was walking with them, a few people decided to stop and stare. No one suddenly cried out ‘look! There goes Harry Potter!’ so he guessed no one had recognized him. The wonders a plain old cloak could do. 

Soon they reached the restaurant, and Snape held the door open for him and Madam Pomfrey as they entered. The place was nice, Harry concluded after looking around at the decor. It was a lot nicer than most other wizard eating establishments he’d been to. Small circle tables filled the main floor, exactly four chairs around each. The walls were naked brick, and old prints of advertisements sat in frames on the walls. They took a seat in one of the tables at the back. 

None of the servers had noticed them yet, that or they didn’t see the need to serve them immediately. Making use of this time Snape produced the paper wrapped parcel from under the table. He slid it across the table to Harry who looked at it curiously. 

“There are objects in that box that are cursed, and some which are not. Figure out which are cursed and which aren’t. Without touching them. Once you think you’ve figured one out explain whether you think it’s cursed and why that is so.” Snape instructed, sitting back properly into his chair. 

Harry looked back at the box and carefully unwrapped it. He was mildly surprised to see the box was made out of cardboard and not some finely decorated wood chest. He carefully peeled back the flaps, and looked at the normal objects lying within. 

There wasn’t a visible sign that anything was cursed. Quite the contrary, it possessed things like a few hair ties, a notepad, and some dice. He was told not to touch anything, but his hands itched to inspect the supposedly dangerous objects. When people said something was cursed Harry’s mind went instantly to some old family heirloom, or some priceless artifact. The subject of curses in his mind were usually always old, and could be dangerous with or without the curse. Now looking into this box of everyday items he was at a loss for what to do. 

What items would be cursed in a box like this? What would be the purpose of cursing things so common, that you could place them in any room of your house and your guests wouldn’t bat an eye? What would be the purpose? The goal? 

His mind started whirring as he tried to figure the puzzle out. If someone were to curse anything in this box why would they do it? They would do it for a trap, maybe just a trick. One the victim wouldn’t see coming. The only way he could use that information to his advantage was to figure out who the victim would be. 

He glanced up at Snape and Pomfrey who had stayed silent as he studied the box. He cleared his throat and asked, “who would be the victim?” 

Snape raised an eyebrow, and looked down into the box himself. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well, these things are all so common right?” Snape nodded and Harry continued, “They are all so common that could be placed anywhere and no one would realize it could potentially be dangerous. Because they wouldn’t suspect danger, then the items will most likely be used for a trap, right?” Madam Pomfrey looked slightly impressed, and Harry took that as a go ahead to keep talking. “So in order for the trap to be effective, the item would have to be something that the victim would cluelessly touch. Something the victim would be drawn to unknowingly. So to figure out what is cursed, I need to know who would touch what to make the trap work.” he finished. 

Snape glanced from him, to the box, and back again. Madam Pomfrey seemed to be waiting for him to say something before she did. “That is an interesting way of looking at this Potter. A route I wouldn't peg you to choose. But since you asked I suppose I should tell you. The unofficial target would be a little girl, around six, with a fascination of sickness.” 

“A fascination of sickness,” Harry echoed, scanning the box for anything remotely related to someone being ill. When he found none, he stepped back a step and made use of the other information. 

When he thought he had one of the items he looked back up to Snape who was watching him along with Pomfrey. “Well?” he drawled. 

“I think it’s the spoon,” he said pointing towards the small silver spoon in one corner of the box. 

“And why is that?” Snape said, giving nothing away that would suggest that he was right or wrong. 

“A little girl, who has some sort of contact with an ill person. If she would want to help the ill person, what do kids know about sickness? Not much, so she would probably think the best thing to do for that person is to make soup or something like that.” Harry explained his thinking, cringing a little on the inside. He knew it sounded very very out there, and there was such a small chance at him being right. 

Snape looked over to Pomfrey, who eyed the spoon in the box. “Well Severus, is he right or not?” she asked, also turning towards him. 

“He is,” Snape said quietly, grabbing one of the cloth napkins and picking up the spoon. Careful not to actually touch the spoon itself. “If someone were to touch this handle, all the flesh on their hand would fall off.” 

“Flesh? Not just skin?” Harry said queasily. 

“Flesh,” Snape confirmed, folding the spoon in the napkin and placing it next to the box. “That was one Potter, there are still more in there.” 

“Same target?” He felt a little weird addressing a little girl as a target, but wanted to know either way. 

“Yes,” 

“Is there any other stuff I can know?” Harry pestered.

“No,” Snape said firmly. He sat back in his chair once more and waved to a passing waiter. 

After the first cursed item was found, Harry went through each object with a new determination. Eliminating the ones he knew weren’t cursed, and guessing a few he was on the fence about. He got a few wrong but as the ‘game’ progressed he got better and better at identifying things that might be cursed. 

Snape had ordered his food for him since he had yet to even glance at the menu. Too caught up in his task to even really acknowledge his hungry stomach. A hot plate of chicken alfredo was placed in front of him. The waiter looked a little amused when he had startled as the waiter placed a napkin full of cutlery next to the plate. 

Harry ate bites in between studying the box and listening into Snape and Pomfrey’s conversation. They were talking about teacher stuff, and about a particular student who wouldn’t stop messing up in potions. Causing the student to make frequent visits to the hospital wing. Harry could guess who they were talking about, but he didn’t want to interrupt. 

After about an hour of sitting and sorting through the box only one item remained. Harry for the life of him couldn’t figure out if it was cursed or not. He could always guess but that would defeat the purpose. 

He sighed heavily, and looked up at the two others at the table. “I have no hecking clue.” He said deflating into his chair. He had used up all possible explanations and reasoning power he had on all the other items. 

“That’s a shame, I was thinking we could get dessert if you figured them all out.” Madam Pomfrey said with a sly smirk.  _ Dessert.  _ The word made him sit back up properly and squint at the item harder. Oh no, he was definitely going to get dessert out of this.

The item was a small teddy bear keychain, the bear was holding a small heart that said ‘I love you beary much!’. Finally he decided what it would most likely be. 

“Not cursed,” he said firmly. 

“Why?” Snape asked, taking a bite of his ragù. 

“A child would most likely look at this once, and throw it somewhere never to be seen again.” Harry said, not hiding the hope from his voice. What he said could also be reversed. A child could look at this and completely fall in love with it. It was one or the other, he had taken a leap and chose the most likely one. 

“Correct,” Snape said, a small smirk falling on his lips. Harry whooped, and pumped one fist into the air. Madam Pomfrey clapped a little, a smile on her face as well. 

“Well then, I do believe I promised dessert.” she said, sliding her chair back and standing up slowly. “There was a shaved ice cart down a little ways, if it’s still there we’ll get some. If not then we’ll get some chocolate frogs, how does that sound?” 

Harry whooped again, this time just happy to get a sugary treat in the middle of the day. They all left after Snape paid for their meal, and carefully placed the items back into the cardboard box. Harry had a small hunkering that it would not be the last time they did that particular exercise. 

Turns out the shaved ice stand was just down the street. Harry got a medium rainbow colored cone, and Pomfrey decided she’d get herself a small blue one. The Gryffindor was slightly surprised again when Snape decided to get one as well, a medium apple green one. 

They ate on a bench, and Harry started to feel a bit hot. He had kept his hood up for the entire day. It was the middle of summer, and wearing a heavy black cloak for most of the day tended to make one extra sweaty. One glance at a clock told him that it was nearly one in the afternoon. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and shifted in his seat on the bench. “So, u-um it’s almost one.” 

Snape glanced towards the small clock post, and hummed lowly in acknowledgement. “It seems so yes,” 

“Oh, would you look at that,” Pomfrey said leaning forward, also looking at the clock. “Well shall we head back or what? I’d like to get going early on those pepper-ups.” 

Snape nodded and stood up, his almost finished shaved ice cone forgotten in his hand. Harry and Pomfrey followed suit. Out of habit more than anything else, Harry slung his arm through Madam Pomfrey’s. She looked mildly pleased that he had remembered to do so. 

They headed to a place not unlike the one they entered Knockturn Alley. A row of fireplaces lined the far wall, a steady stream of people going in and out. They were all smiling or looking disoriented. The man behind the desk beamed at almost everyone who entered. And if he wasn’t smiling he was getting up to help the younger kids come through the floo. The differences between this entrance in the one at Knockturn struck Harry suddenly. Obviously this entrance was friendlier, but the other one was definitely more controlled. Here any shady person could leap through one of the floos and start hexing people. At the other entrance it was almost expected that if you came out of the portal then you were dangerous. 

He didn’t have long to dilly dally on it though since Pomfrey, through their still linked arms, dragged him hurriedly through the crowds. Snape was right behind them. He heard a few people, who were surely Hogwarts students or had been, gasp and shout his name. Snape ignored those who tried to get his attention. Harry knew the feeling, but he hoped he didn’t come off as quite so rude when he himself did it. 

They found an empty fireplace, and it lit itself, as if sensing their presence. Pomfrey took out yet another pouch that had been hidden in her skirts, and opened the tiny drawstring bag. She took out a pinch and threw it into the flames. She attached back to the skirt, and looked over to the two males watching her. 

“Alright then,” she said loudly so they could hear her over the noise, “I’ll go first as before, Severus don’t you dare go to anywhere else other than to your house.” 

Snape rolled his eyes at the threat, but nodded stiffly anyway. Madam Pomfrey gave one firm nod and shouted the house’s address. Harry followed after her quickly. 

Once they all got to the house, Harry went off to his room and promptly changed and collapsed onto his bed. He was hot, he was sweaty, he was dizzy, and he was tired. He doubted even Odin could rouse him if the elf tried.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is satisfactory


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, let's all just forget that Harry found out about Snape being a death eater in fourth year. Cool? Cool.

Harry sat on his window seat. Marvelous sunlight streamed through the wind0w, the fair sized backyard glittering with early morning dew. It was now a week and a half into Harry’s stay, and he was bored. He wanted to get outside. Maybe walk around town or clean up the backyard. The thing was though, none of things would be any fun alone. Odin wasn’t the most pleasant company, and Snape was completely out of the option. 

He missed Hermione and Ron. 

The Gryfinndor looked around his room. It wasn’t that messy. Odin wouldn’t stand him having a messy room, neither would Snape; but Snape didn’t barge into his room suddenly and start inspecting his room for any hint of clutter. And god help him if Odin found anything out of place. 

With a bored sigh, Harry hopped off the window seat and exited his room. His bare feet padding soundlessly against the dark wood floorboards. Maybe he could find something to do in the kitchen. Bake something maybe? 

What he didn’t expect to see was Snape leaning against the refrigerator. The man was swirling a bottle of beer, his eyes unfocused on the opposite wall. He was wearing his usual casual muggle clothes, the darkest blue jeans you have ever seen, with a long sleeved black top. Harry meekly padded through the doorway, and cleared his throat. Snape’s head whipped towards him, and his shoulders relaxed slightly when he saw it was only him. 

“Hey, um, are you, like, okay?” Harry asked awkwardly. He knew Snape’s routine well enough by now to know this was unusual behavior. 

Snape only responded with a curt grunt, which he followed up with a swig of his beer. 

“So that’s a no… ?” 

Snape didn’t comment for a second, then glanced back down at his drink again and sighed. “I might as well be truthful,” Snape grumbled, glancing back up at the boy, “I’m having a slight… dilemma.” he admitted. 

“Oh, what about?” Harry asked curiously. He perched himself on the counter opposite to the fridge, he might as well get comfortable.

“Blond pure bloods, and whether I should piss them off or not.” he said. 

“Hold on, do you mean the Malfoys?” Harry asked suddenly. He didn’t know if Snape was even friends with the Malfoy family. It was very possible, and frankly very disturbing. 

Snape simply nodded, and took another swig of beer. “The posh pureblood Malfoys in all their righteous glory.” he said sarcastically. Harry snorted despite himself wanting to have a serious conversation. 

“How could you piss them off?” Harry asked, still giggling a little. 

“There are many ways you can piss a Malfoy off, you’ve managed to unlock some new ways for Draco. Not that it's hard.” Snape commented idly, still not getting to the point. “I’ve been…  _ allies  _ with Lucius for some time now. He knows where the house is ‘n’everything.” 

Now that surprised Harry, Snape had said early on that he was with something called the ‘the Order of the Phoenix’. It was apparently a group working against Voldemort. To his knowledge some of the members were Sirius, Remus, and Professor McGonagall. Whoever was in it, they were the good guys. “But isn’t he a, you know….” 

“A death eater?” Snape supplied, he took another sip of his beer as if prepping himself for something. “Last time I inquired, yes,” 

“Then why are you trusting him?!” Harry shouted, suddenly not feeling very safe sitting in that kitchen. A death eater knew where he was! A death eater knew where he… 

He felt faint.

He braced himself against the counter, head rested back against the cupboards. This couldn’t be happening… it just couldn’t! He was safe. He was  _ finally _ safe. Snape had told him he was safe. Yet a death eater knew where he was. 

“-otter! Potter!” Snape said loudly, causing Harry’s head to swivel towards the man. 

“You lied to me!” Harry accused, trying to back himself further into the crevice between the cupboard in the counter. 

“No, I just- ngh no, please just listen to me.” Snape said not coming any closer, if anything he backed further away. He placed the beer on the counter beside the fridge and held up his hands, palms facing Harry. 

“You lied! Y-you’ve lied this whole time! How can I listen to you?!” Harry screamed, not able to back up any more, he brought his knees to his chest. Glaring watery eyes at the man in front of him, his eye stung. He didn’t want to cry. 

Snape stood stalk still, making no move or gesture that would suggest any oncoming violence. His eyes assessing everything Harry did, every slight tremble, his unthreatening watery glare. “He does not know you are here,” Snape said slowly and clearly. 

Harry sniffled a little, trying to not let some mucus out that was suddenly overflowing his nose. “H-how can I trust you?!” his voice quivered. He wished he had his wand on him, at least then he could have some sort of illusion of protection. It did him no good on his bedside table in his room. 

Snape said nothing, he took one step forward. Harry reacted immediately. 

He held his knees closer to his chest, and snarled at the man. 

Snape took another step closer. Harry curled into a tighter ball, his eyes stinging and probably red with unshed tears. 

Ever so slowly, Snape made his way across the kitchen towards Harry. His posture and face were as non-threatening as possible. But Harry didn’t care. 

He had been betrayed again! He had been lied to! Information had been kept from him. He had trusted Snape to tell him the truth. He had trusted Madam Pomfrey to give him information. They both betrayed him! A death eater knew where he was, and he was surely coming over right now! 

The tears that were welled in his eyes spilt over and he started bawling. Harry’s face flushed in shame. How could he show weakness now?! He planted his face on top of his knees, and a ragged sob tore through him. He thought he had been safe. 

Snape’s slow footsteps stopped suddenly, Harry looked up slightly. His glasses were smudged and fogged up from his tears. Snape stood directly in front of him, both his hands in the air. Slowly and gently one of his hands moved forward. Harry planted his face in his knees again and willed the hand to go away. To let him be! 

When the hand made contact with his ankle, he jerked back and whimpered a little. The hand did not relent though. The hand slowly made its way up Harry’s bare leg. Letting Harry track where it was and where it was going. It made its way to his arms, which were still wrapped tightly around his knees. Harry flinched again, when a second hand landed on his other arm. 

“Harry,” Snape said softly, concern and worry riddling his usual stoney tone. Despite himself Harry took in a little comfort at his first name. “are you listening to my voice?” 

Slowly, Harry nodded his head, his face still smushed against his arms and legs. 

“Good, now listen to me when I say you are hidden here. You are in place completely void of any muggle or wizarding maps. You cannot be found. No death eaters of any concern have found your friends or hurt them.” he paused, “All who you care about are safe.” he added quietly. 

Harry sniffled again, burrowing his face further into his arms. Snape’s slightly cold hands had a steady presence against his now uncomfortable skin. He needed to run as far away as he could. His stupid body was holding him back. He was frozen.

“They are?’ he finally squeaked out. 

“They are.” Snape confirmed gently, “They are,” he said quieter, effectively soothing him somewhat, “so are you.” he said quieter still. 

Harry sniffled again and slowly raised his head. He found himself looking into Snape’s dark brown, almost black, eyes. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” Snape said, his usually hard voice and face calm, and sincere. “Would you rather have this conversation on the sofas?”

Harry nodded, and Snape removed his hands as Harry slowly unfurled himself from his protective position. Cautiously he hopped off the counter, and half-ran half-walked to the living room. Snape stayed a good distance away from him as they walked through the hallway. Once they entered the room Harry instantly grabbed his blanket from the floor and wrapped it around his shoulders. He backed into the armrest, from which he could survey both Snape and the exit at once. 

Snape sat down on the couch opposite from his and ran a hand through his hair. “Death eaters,” Snape started slowly, his face falling into his usual scowl, although this one seemed for a different reason than just meager annoyance, “we trick, deceive, and kill all who get in the way.” 

“We?” Harry choked out, backing up further into the couch. He didn’t like where this was going.

Snape wordlessly rolled up his black sleeve, his entire forearm was wrapped in medical tape. There was no gauze under the tape, so there was no actual injury. For some reason this terrified Harry even more, because that could only mean… 

Slowly, Snape peeled away the tape wincing as it ripped off some arm hairs. Harry watched with wide damp eyes as a familiar brand was slowly revealed. Another flood of tears overwhelmed him, and Harry tried to wipe them away. “No…” he whimpered, not wanting to believe his eyes. 

Snape sighed deeply and piled the length of medical tape beside him. “I’m not proud of it,” he said, his hand clenching into a fist, “if I could tell my younger self to not take it, I would. Most of us would. Oppositely some of us were miserable, broken, unworthy of anything good. They assumed they needed a permanent escape from their morals. Well they got it. As for the rest of us, sad  _ baise _ , trapped.” Snape said, not bothering to flip his arm over as he leaned into his own armrest. “I…” Snape squinted down at his arm, with disgust, “wanted to help the light, needed to. My sanity depended on me not being  _ evil.” _

“But you have that, aren’t you evil?” Harry knew it was a rude question. He knew that it was mean, but he needed to know. Had he been living with an evil person? Had he been foolish enough to trust him? 

Snape sighed again, and looked up to meet Harry’s eyes. “It’s just an ugly scar caused by idiotic, irreversible decisions. It doesn’t affect my character itself, the actions it obliged me to...” he shook his head, and Harry watched him cautiously. “They have scarred me more permanently than the dark mark. I try to avoid the gatherings, the tasks, the  _ horrors,  _ but when I have no other choice, I do what I must.” 

“And that is?” Harry said shakily, letting his knees fall from his death grip to his chest. 

“Pretend, until I die trying to make the shame disappear.” he said, suddenly sounding a lot more tired. 

“W-what about Malfoy?” Harry tentatively asked. 

“Lucius is my friend.” Snape stated clearly. “I owe him my sanity and my life multiple times over. Not that he owes me any less.” he said, through his tired, cautious tone, a tinge of fondness showed up through the layers covering it. 

Harry thought over Snape’s words. Did he mean them? Was he being truthful? Was this real sincerity? Harry… wasn’t sure. He wanted more answers. So he decided to ask some more questions. “You were having a dilemma on whether to piss him off or not.” Harry commented, sniffing to hold back some mucus trying escaping through his nose. “If he’s your friend, why are you debating that?” 

Snape seemed to think the question over before he responded. “Lucius is my friend, yes, he also has a son.” 

“What does Draco Malfoy have to do with this?” Harry pestered, wanting to get every detail he could. 

“I wasn’t finished,” Snape snapped, causing Harry to flinch. Snape breathed in deeply and calmed himself down. “When both me and Lucius are summoned for a gathering, Narcissa, Mrs Malfoy, usually has other… plans. Therefore leaving the manor unguarded.” 

“Don’t they, like, have an  _ army  _ of house elves?” Harry asked incredulously. 

Snape raised an eyebrow in what Harry could only assume was amusement. “Indeed, but no matter how hard they may try, an untrained creature cannot fight against a death eater and win. With no one to contact if there is a sudden ambush or attack, Draco would usually come here for the night, and most of the morn afterwards.”

“So what you’re saying is…” Harry trailed off as realization struck him, “you and Mr Malfoy got summoned for a death eater meeting or something?”

“Or something,” Snape agreed gravely, “My dilemma, as you so eloquently pointed out, was if I should allow Draco to stay the night over. Thereby alerting the Malfoys you are here.” 

“If you and the Malfoys are allies, why would it matter if they knew I was here?”

“I was concerned you would react similarly to how you just did, in front of Draco and Lucius. Even I wouldn’t subject you to such humiliation as to having a panic attack in front of your school ‘nemesis’.” Snape air quoted the word nemesis. Harry barely noticed as he imagined the scene that may have played out. 

Lucius Malfoy in his death eater robes, snootily looking down at Harry as the Gryffindor bawled his eyes out and tried to back as far as he could away from him. Draco Malfoy laughing next to his father, committing everything to memory for creating rumors and mockery at Hogwarts. He could imagine the taunts, ‘Oi Potter, are you so worthless that you grovel and sob at anyone’s feet?’. 

Yeah, he would rather avoid that becoming a possibility. 

Snape must've read the look on his face because he nodded in muted sympathy. “The other option would be to simply turn down my hospitality for no apparent reason. It’s never a wise choice to deny someone something without reason.” 

“So your plan was to tell me beforehand?” Harry said, letting his body fully relax on the couch. He wiped at the drying trails left behind by his tears. He kept his gaze alert, but Snape didn’t seem inclined to attack him. His body didn’t need to protect itself from violent attacks. His mind on the other hand, was so heavily guarded, he was having trouble believing his own thoughts were true. 

“No, my plan was to tell you the barest details and saw how you reacted to the concepts. And if you reacted well, then to tell you just about everything.” 

“Just about?” 

“I cannot be held accountable for forgetting a few details that are natural knowledge to me, but may seem abstract and absurd to you.” Snape explained, without even a glimmer of hesitation. “Obviously that plan morphed into this current situation, and the dilemma still stands.” 

“Whether I’m comfortable with a death eater knowing my location or not?” Harry asked, wiping the last of the snot that threatened to escape his nose. Snape nodded, and wordlessly handed him a tissue from the tissue box on the coffee table. He blew his nose and muttered a small thank you, to which Snape didn’t react. 

“You have the rest of the day to think it over, the meeting is tomorrow at sunset. I’d like to inform Lucius of the plan by midday.” Snape said. 

For a few minutes neither of them spoke, Harry drew his blanket closer around his body. Finally Harry said, “can I ask a few more questions?” 

“That is a question,” Snape commented dryly. 

“Yeah, but like, it doesn’t count.” Harry said, smiling despite himself. 

“I suppose it doesn’t,” Snape relented, “you’re free to ask me anything that’s troubling you.” 

And Harry did ask. 

He asked about all the things that had been troubling him since he woke up in the hospital wing. Snape answered all of them more or less. Some of the harder questions like ‘how long am I going to endure my symptoms?’, were left either half answered or not answered at all. But Snape assured him it was only because he himself didn’t have enough information or there wasn’t information to be shared. 

When Harry finally found himself without any more questions to ask, Snape left and told him he’d be in his bedroom. Harry still didn’t have a solution to the Malfoy dilemma, but he was much more educated on what was to go down. 

Draco Malfoy would arrive with Lucius Malfoy around six in the evening. Snape would leave with Lucius and not come back until very early the next morning. Leaving him, Draco Malfoy, and Odin by themselves for the majority of the evening. By the time Lucius and Snape would return both would be crucio battered and dead tired. The Mafloys would crash at the house and stay for breakfast the next morning. They’d leave some time before lunch. 

It was a fairly reasonable timeline if Harry were to be honest. He personally wouldn’t want to floo travel, half dead, in the middle of the night either. He’d already done it with a portkey, he couldn’t imagine flooing to be any different. 

Finally after about thirty minutes after Snape had gone off to his room, his brain hurt from thinking too much. Harry decided he’d take a nap, and debate it with himself with a fresh mind. He got up slowly, and waddled to his room. The blanket dragging behind him. 


	11. Chapter eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, this week's been rough, and I didn't have time to do much more.

Harry cautiously approached Snape the next morning. The man was already awake, and looked like he was getting ready to make something for breakfast. Omelettes maybe. 

He turned towards Harry, and took in the boy’s ruffled and nervous exterior. “Have you made a decision?” Snape asked, turning back to his task of getting the gas stovetop to work properly. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry said, perching himself on the counter closest to him. Snape grunted as a go ahead for him to continue talking. “I think it would be… okay, if the Malfoy’s were to visit.” he said, crossing his ankles nervously. 

He watched Snape finally get the flames to turn to the right height, and place a small non-stick pan on top. Alright, so he was definitely making omelettes. 

“Okay, I’ll inform Lucius around midday.” Snape said absently, as he cracked the first egg into a small bowl. “Would you like an omelette?” 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Potter sat in front of him, twitching at every minute sound. His wardrobe had changed drastically since they talked yesterday. Potter wore old-ish jeans with a baggy tee. A stark contrast compared to the light blue crop top and navy shorts he had been wearing in the morning. Severus regarded him carefully, trying to convey silently that it wouldn’t be as terrible as they both predicted it would be. 

When Severus had firecalled Lucius during lunch, and told him the news, there had been a mixed response. Surprise most prominent, trepidation, confusion, then reluctantly, an almost morbid like acceptance. Severus hadn’t been able to tell much through the floo, but he sensed there was more behind Lucius’s lack of a dramatic reaction. Potter had certainly had quite the reaction. 

Right now the boy was trying his hardest not to look more terrified than a three year old going to the dentist for the first time. 

Severus had narrowed down Draco’s and Harry’s interactions into three different possibilities.  First, and most likely to happen, forced civility. He and the Malfoys would barely interact. When he and Lucius left, either Draco or Potter would stalk off to the barely seen parts of the house, and ignore each other like the plague. 

Second, literal explosions, Draco and Potter would spend the whole evening fighting and arguing. It wasn’t the most pleasant of possible options, but it was probable with the boy’s history. 

Third, and least likely to happen, begrudging compliance. He couldn’t cross this one off his list of outcomes, because it was a, slightly irrational, possibility. If the boys could get over their pride and have a regular conversation, then they might become something of acquaintances. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Maybe it was hoping they wouldn’t burn down the house. 

He glanced at the analog clock again, and confirmed to himself that it was almost the time set for the Malfoys to come through the floo. Potter kept glancing at the clock as well. Almost like he was afraid it would combust. 

“You do not have to be present to greet them,” he reminded Potter, who looked very close to passing out. 

The boy gulped audibly, and shook his head. “I want to know when they get here,” 

“There are alarms for such things,” all he got in response was another frantic shake of Potter’s head. 

Exactly as the clock struck 5:50, the flames in the hearth turned lime green. Lucius Malfoy stepped out wearing dreary black robes, that, if death eaters were honest with themselves, were purely for aesthetic. Lucius barely spared Potter a glance, although he could tell the boy was practically frozen. 

“Hullo Severus, let’s get this over with shall we?” Lucius said with a false sense of casualty. He knew the man well enough to know that neither of them were calm in the least. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for all the galleons in Gringotts,” Severus said sarcastically. 

“And if I included the silver into that deal?” Lucius replied, his voice already sounding much too tired. 

“Then you might have me hooked,” Severus mumbled, watching the flames turn green again, and this time, a different Malfoy came out. A younger one, with almost perfect complexion, and looked very much like he didn’t want to be here. Draco Malfoy stood in his muggle attire, and an unattractive sneer affixed to his face. 

Surprisingly, neither of the boys made a comment on the others' presence. They just glared at each other with an intensity not unlike a solar flare. 

Severus and Lucius exchanged a glance. “Before we leave you two to your own devices," Lucius started, "I ask that no fires, fist, gun or knife fights, hexes, jinxes, turf wars, intoxication, homicide, or anything done to harm the other mentally or physically take place.” Lucius listed off with such ease it seemed like he had practiced it in the mirror. Knowing Lucius, he probably subjected some poor house elf to his small speech practice. 

Draco looked like he wanted to protest at least one of those conditions, if not more, but he wisely held his tongue. 

“Odin’s in charge of the house, I suggest not to make too much of a mess. Nerf guns are upstairs if either of you feel you cannot hold back your animosity. Dinner is in the oven, Odin should serve it around a half an hour from now. No, you are not allowed to eat upstairs or on the sofas.” Snape stated his own list. 

Lucius gave him an amused look, “Did you actually buy fake guns in preparation of unrestrainable hostility?” 

He shrugged and said, “I find it unwise to leave these two fools with real weapons.” 

“So you thought we were going to leave them with actual weapons?” Lucius asked incredulously. Severus sent him a glare, which had absolutely no effect. That’s one thing Severus didn’t like about having friends, his glares were retracted their potency. 

“Would I really leave fatal weapons around teenagers?” 

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the time you almost poisoned Draco when he was an infant,” Lucius said dryly, “I don’t presume your dealing with teenagers would be much more different.” 

“I’ll admit that was irresponsible, but I would do no such thing purposefully.” Severus defended. He had brought over a few vials of Infant Calmer ™, and had accidentally grabbed some three headed cobra venom in his hurry. They had been right beside each other, and were the same color. He had been in a rush! Thankfully, one of the house elves had questioned whether he truly wanted to poison the Malfoy heir, because if he did, she would have to contact the elder Malfoy to get his approval. 

He glanced at the two boys who were both looking at the two adults. Potter with poorly hidden amusement, and Draco with mild mortification. 

“Wait  _ what _ ?” Draco asked, with his eyes narrowed untrusting on Severus. 

“I nearly fed you three headed cobra venom, which is besides the point.” Severus said. 

“ _ Three headed cobra venom _ ?” Draco echoed in a hissed whisper. Potter looked very close to laughing, which made Severus turn his scowl on him. The Gryffindor quickly stopped shaking with repressed snickers, but his amused smile remained. 

“What was the point dear Severus?” Lucius asked with a smirk of his own, “To assassinate my newly born son? How dare you even attempt-” 

“If I wanted to commit infanticide, I would do it with more tact than simply poison. Honestly Lucius, I would at least get a less expensive poison.” Severus interrupted, with an eye roll. 

Lucius gasped in mock indignation, “I’m offended! My son deserves the best poison if he were ever to be eliminated in such a crude manner.” 

“Dad!” Draco exclaimed, his eyes were big with both mortification and exasperation. 

“I don’t believe anything I’ve said is untrue.” Lucius said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I do think he’s referring to you defending that he should be poisoned painfully.” Severus helpfully pointed out sarcastically. 

“Well, I think you shouldn’t be poisoned with some muggle laundry detergent. Deathstalker venom would be more appropriate.” Lucius said defensively. 

“You’re digging the hole deeper Lucius,” Severus commented, as he observed Draco’s eyes become even bigger. He was certain he heard Potter snicker quietly. He took a glance at the clock, two minutes till six. “We need to arrive in two minutes. Tell your son you won’t let him get poisoned at all, and then we need to depart.” 

Lucius looked at the clock as well, and clucked his tongue in annoyance. “Very well then, Draco I won’t let anyone poison you. They’d be foolish to try. Although I have not even a glimmer of control with your unstable house elf Severus.” 

Severus rolled his eyes and started towards the mantle box that held the floo powder. 

“Um- wait!” Potter shouted from the couch, just as Severus flung the powder into the flames. Severus turned towards the boy curiously, it was the first time Potter had spoken since the Malfoys stepped through the floo. He seemed to have realised what he just shouted, because he sat there, frozen, cheeks flushed. 

“Yes?” Severus asked curiously. 

“I- um, just that I, ugh…” Potter babbled, throwing very nervous looks at both Malfoys, “... good luck?” 

Severus raised an eyebrow, not sure if he were pitying the boy or amused. With one look at the Malfoys, Lucius was more on the pitying side and Draco was definitely more amused. “Hopefully we will not need the mighty Gryffindor’s blessing of good luck.” Severus drawled. Potter glared at him with flamed cheeks, which made Severus feel that annoying little stab of regret behind his eyes. “To be completely serious Potter, it’s a dream that luck might help us at all.” 

Potter pouted, but made no further comment. Severus turned back to the fireplace and stated the address clearly. From there they would apparate. Then they would walk at least a mile to get to their destination. You could never be too careful when going to a meeting with the dark lord. He walked out to the other side of the floo connection, and waited for Lucius to join him. As much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud or in his mind, Potter’s feeble attempt at well wishes made his appointment not seem so foreboding. 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Harry stared at the fire where Snape just disappeared. Refusing to even look at or acknowledge either Malfoy. Malfoy Senior made no comment as he stepped into the floo next. When that Malfoy was gone a dreaded voice finally spoke up, “Well isn’t this quite the situation,” Draco Malfoy mused. “Harry Potter hiding out in the head of Slytherins home. Now what’s that all about? Father wouldn’t tell me anything useful.”

Harry rolled his eyes and finally turned towards Malfoy. Surprisingly, he was wearing muggle clothes. Grey trousers, and a plain white shirt. If it weren’t the middle of summer, Harry could imagine him wearing a fancy jumper on top of the ensemble. Malfoy was perched on the armrest opposite to Harry. 

“Well go on now, tell me the sob story sad enough it convinced Severus Snape, death eater, to take you in.” Malfoy said with a cat-like smirk on his face. His hair wasn’t gelled back as it was in school. It looked nice on him. His bangs falling attractively on either side of his forehead. Harry found that he disliked this more human style more. It made him look good, and Malfoy didn’t deserve to look even mediocre. Much less good. 

“I was technically kidnapped,” Harry said, glaring at the blonde. 

“Is that so? Quite the hostage you are, wishing your captor good luck. Haven’t found a way to escape yet Potty? I’d be happy to assist, anything so I don’t have to suffer your presence.” Malfoy drawled. 

“That won’t be necessary, and if anyone here is suffering an insufferable brat’s presence it’s me.” Harry spat back. 

“Someone’s touchy,” Malfoy mumbled, rolling his eyes, “whatever Potter, don’t get so worked up over me. Lord knows you have more things to worry about, like that ugly mop you call hair.” 

“At least I don’t have to spend half my morning on my appearance Malfoy,” 

“Half the morning is quite a great deal of time, what do you spend it on? Writing love letters to that Weaslette?” Malfoy meanly teased him. Harry almost gagged at the thought of sending Ginny  _ love letters  _ of all things. 

“Did the technically kidnapped thing not register in your brain? Or are you just so deaf from Parkison’s endless bitching that you can no longer comprehend simple speech?” Harry shouted, redirecting the conversation back to Malfoy. 

“Oooh, look who's using big boy words. Shall I give you a medal? Perhaps thirty unearned points to Gryfinndor?” Malfoy yelled back sarcastically. 

“I’d say almost dying is reason enough for an extra few points,” Harry snarled. His temper rose just like it did in the halls of Hogwarts. 

Malfoy scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically. “It wasn't you who died, was it Potter? If anything goddamned Hufflepuff deserves more points than you ever did!” 

“Why you-” 

“Boys!” Odin popped into existence on the coffee table. Causing both Harry and Malfoy to jump and look towards the house elf. “I can hear your mindless blabbering from upstairs! If I have to duct tape your mouths shut I will!” 

Harry instantly clammed up, knowing Odin wasn’t kidding in the slightest. Malfoy, surprisingly, did the same. Although he didn’t look too happy doing it. 

“Now what is the goddamned conflict?! It can’t be all that important if you two shits are the one’s fighting.” Odin grumbled, plopping down criss cross applesauce on top of the coffee table. He’s hypocritical, for someone who slaps people for putting their feet up on the very same table. 

“First off, rude,” Malfoy said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, and?” Odin asked, unimpressed with Malfoy’s accusation. 

“And it was rude.” Malfoy stated again, “Second off, my father just left to go to a mad man’s meeting. And is most likely going to be put under multiple crucios. Forgive me, oh-holy house elf, for being a bit irritable.” Malfoy drawled. 

Odin studied Malfoy for a few seconds, then he nodded once. “That’s understandable, now,” he turned towards Harry, “what’s your excuse Gryffindor boy?” 

Harry huffed, “What else am I supposed to do when someone passive aggressively insults you?” 

“Be a little shit right back obviously,” Odin answered immediately. 

“Then why are you mad at me?” Harry asked, not understanding Odin’s ridiculous bullshit. 

“Who said I was mad?” Odin said. Harry squinted at him in disbelief. Malfoy snickered a little but it was smothered by his hand over his mouth. “Supper’s ready on the table. No leaving the table until you’re done eating. Severus told me to watch over you ding-dongs for the evening. Make sure you don’t do anything naughty and all that.” 


End file.
